


Proxima

by PalavenGrrl



Category: Free Form - Fandom, Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 02:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 39,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PalavenGrrl/pseuds/PalavenGrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for kink meme.</p><p>Both rise the ranks together, always sharing rooms that have bunk beds. Both share the cabin on SR-1, One (the other escorts others off the ship,surviving) or both are brought back by TIM, Once again sharing a cabin on the SR-2. No one knows they are...intimate except maybe Garrus and Wrex. Wrex not caring and Garrus...upset then intrigued after seeing them act like a regular couple (accidentally).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> It's Bioware's sandbox, I just bring the toys.

Anderson is faced with a conundrum.

Hackett had assured him that he’d get to hand pick his crew for the Normandy.

Knowing that, he'd set his sights on one person in particular; Commander A.D. Shepard; widower, sole survivor of a mission gone wrong.

His former crew mates reported that he could be ruthless but was fair dealing with those under his leadership.

This man had been in his sights since Akuze and he still wanted him, that isn't the issue.

The issue staring him in the face; right now, is that Alliance command has made a mistake!

It has to be a damn mistake.

He’s stares blankly at files, two marines with nearly the same damn names and it can't be a coincidence.

David Anderson doesn't believe in them.

The beginning of a headache takes up residence at the back of his skull, the data blurs but even that can't erase what he's read. 

Shepard, Aiden, Declan, Commander. Mother: Captain Myers (Shepard), Hannah  
Captain of the SSV Orizaba. Father: Mother refused to disclose. DOB: 4/11/2154.  
POB: Bethesda Alliance Command Med. Center. Definitely a spacer given his mother’s notable career. 

Shepard, Adan, Daron, Commander. Father: Captain Shepard, Devaun A.,  
Captain of the SSV Hastings, Anderson’s former posting. Mother: Father refused to disclose. DOB: 4/11/2154. POB: Bethesda Alliance Command Med. Center.  
She is both a spacer and colony kid; given her father's postings and notable career.

Two marines; ghosting one another through the Alliance, always in the same commands and he has a strong feeling that Hackett is laughing at him.

Really laughing his ass off over two fingers of Glenfiddich neat while rubbing that damn beard of his.

He scans the files a third time.

No amount of denial or reasoning on his part can refute the fact.

Shaking his head, he gives voice to the nagging voice at the back of his mind. 

“No, this can’t be possible. Hackett had to have known, he could not have not known.”

He already knows the answer, that smug bastard, Hackett, had always known.

A hand goes to a drawer retrieving a glass and familiar bottle.

Two fingers of amber liquid fill the room with the scent of honey, the mellow taste gives way to a fire, that burns away the ache pounding at his neck.

With a shake of his head he transfers the files to separate data-pads along with the few snapshots each officer has in common.

Their careers move in tandem, no, not in tandem, they’ve are in sync with one another.

Serving on the same ships, within the same commands yet no one had made the connection, yet he can and realizes that only someone with a pay grade much higher than his could have made this happen. 

They’d been forged in fired by the sole posting that separated them, missions that have made them famous; or infamous, depending on whom you asked.

Shepard male on Akuze; sole survivor of said mission and much to Anderson’s surprise Shepard female is the infamous Butcher of Torfan. 

Even their personalities are entirely diametrically opposed.

Except for a solitary blacked out report; an incident involving Ambassador Udina, she is the consummate diplomat.

She is clearly at ease with politicians, despite the nickname.

He flips through her file taking in each picture, she's rubbed shoulders with most of the top Alliance brass and some of Parliament.

Whereas he...well the last time he dealt with Parliament, his picture had shown up on all the feeds with two birds flying and neither had feathers.

Running a hand over his face in resignation, he empties the glass.

He can’t deny the postings as Hackett had handpicked the female.

Closing their service records, he studies the few pictures that accompany their service records. 

But for the scars: one that cuts through the left eyebrow and another beneath her lower lip, they are identical twins. 

How? 

How had anyone missed this?

No one had missed it.

Hackett has had it cleverly hidden.

He makes the postings, assigning the male as his XO and the female as his S1. 

He’ll make this work, somehow.

He's still studying the pictures when the door to his office opens, drawing his gaze.

The twins stride in, engaged in conversation, laughing and joking; definitely comfortable with one another. 

The man’s hair is a buzzed dark, red shadow over his scalp and her's a deep, titan red secured in a high ponytail that falls into loose waves over her shoulder. 

“So you want to tell me about that new modification you made for warp ammo?” 

She asks with her silver eyes shifting to an aqua that sparkle with mirth. 

He shakes his head, his own grayish green eyes are crinkled in the corners as he smiles.

“Sure when you explain to me about that no-tell...” he reaches Anderson’s desk, his counterpart remains at the door.

“Yeah, that,” he finishes when she shocks both men by charging the distance without the biotic flare. 

She gives a bow, the length of her hair falls forward to sweep the floor.

It is then that Anderson notices that her damn hair is definitely not within regulations and he wonders where in the hell she puts it in uniform.

“Captain Anderson, Shepard and Shepard reporting, sir,” she offers with a lopsided grin.

They snap off a perfectly synchronized salute, dropping it when his own falls. 

“Have a seat,” he nods toward the group of chairs on the balcony, remaining at their backs.

They move alike; efficient moves that radiate contained energy. 

When they drop into the chairs even their posture is identical. 

"Fuck. You. Hackett." He murmurs with a shake of his head. 

If they didn’t know then he’d keep his damn mouth shut.

He briefs the two on their positions and responsibilities, keeping it under wraps that the posting is really an evaluation.

They are potential Spectre candidates and this shakedown is the easiest way to get them evaluated quickly. 

He places them on seventy-two hours shore leave with a call back time of 0600 hrs. 

Alone, with only his thoughts, he pours himself another glass, taking a minute to sort out his thoughts.

His musings on the situation only serve to piss him off more.

Sipping at his drink, he composes an email to Hackett cursing him for the situation, once his ire is sated he deletes it, then sends an edited version emphasizing that he knows.


	2. Reunion

Out of the shadow of the Embassies, military rank and demeanor are forgotten.

She turns into him, the tips of her fingers tracing along the growing bulge in his pants, he at least waits until they are on the lift before slamming her against the glass.

His mouth is hard, bruising and he smiles with the thought that it will be swollen later as she matches his force.

Palming her thighs, he lifts her, reducing their slight height difference. 

Laughing, she bites down on his lower lip, earning a deep chested growls before she soothes the hurt by drawing it into her mouth.

Her muscular thighs pull him tighter when she leaves his mouth to run her lips over the stubble of his scalp. 

“I've missed you,” he sighs into her shoulder. 

“You’ve couldn’t come see me? You’ve been on the Citadel for three weeks,” he searches her face, watching her eyes bleed to a nearly translucent green indicating her arousal.

Her kisses are softer now.

She steals his thoughts by teasing her tongue over the swollen flesh of his lower lip, “I was too busy trying to stay out of the brig? Using a mission to extract personal revenge for a friend…even the Alliance frowns upon that bit.”

He tightens his arm around her waist, earning a squeak before he sets her on her feet, “Are you hungry?” 

She sinks her teeth into his nipple through his shirt earning a hungry response from him

“Food, Adan, are you hungry for ….” He is silenced by the cold metal against his back, the nimble fingers at his fly and the gentle halting of the lift. 

He finds his voice in the heat of her mouth, his head making a ringing thud against the doors, “People will see us,”

“Wow, still shy, Declan?” She laughs knowing how damn hot her breath is on him, “We’re more than a hundred stories up. No one looks up this high.”

His reply dies on his lips when she returns to her ministrations, putting her hands in motion as well. 

His earlier concerns are forgotten now that he’s fucking her mouth in earnest.

He tears the thin elastic from her hair, fisting it to guide her.

“Close,” he groans. 

SHIT! He thinks when she pulls his balls down with one hand; halting his climax and restarting the elevator with the other.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” he moans when she matches the leisurely pace of the elevator.

“We’re going to get caught.” He tries to push her away. 

She hums around his length and pulls away just enough to answer, “Then shut the fuck up and come, DeClan.” 

He obliges her.

Slamming down her throat while she laughs around him.

She releases him as the elevator jerks once before settling.

The final ding announces the opening of the doors when he groans and empties himself into her throat, filling her mouth. 

His pants are closed as she rises, a finger rids her face of any evidence before she sets her tangled hair to rights. 

He shakes his head as she sashays out the elevator, both hands combing through her hair before she tosses a wink over her shoulder.

“Damn, I’ve missed that woman,” he says to no one in particular, jogging to catch up with her with a grin on his lips.

With their immediate carnal hunger sated, they end up at a café on one of the lower wards.

He orders steak, rice pilaf, asparagus with a glass of pinot noir; she has a huge greasy double cheeseburger with bacon, onions and mushrooms, an order of nacho fries and a double old fashioned chocolate cherry milk shake.

They are definitely the odd couple.

He with his delicate, five star manners and she, with grease, juice and melted cheese from the burger running down her wrists.

She devours the burger, shoving fries in her mouth between gulps of the shake. 

She has finished her entire meal and is indulging in the café’s crème brûlée and he’s yet to finish his own meal. 

“I see you still have those prissy manners. How the hell can you enjoy your food when you take so long to get to it?” She fusses, collecting the last of the dessert from the ramekin with her finger.

“I enjoy it the same way you enjoyed your liquid diet, on the elevator, by letting the flavor sit on my tongue, instead of muddling around in my mouth,” he answers daubing at his mouth with the napkin.

“I’ll remember not to muddle your delicate tongue in the future,” her eyes glitter with mischief.

He pays for their meal, quits the table and is chasing her up the stairs, again, when what she said dawns on him.

“What do you mean by that?” He knows she never makes idle threats; ever, as he reins her in by her wrist.

She ignores the tightening of his hand, walking away and he’s forced to match her pace or be dragged along.

The Citadel is well into the night cycle and the slight breeze lifts her hair into a banner that trails into his face.

“Adan, what did you mean by that?” He repeats, releasing her wrist when she rotates it slowly, a subtle warning.

“Nothing at all,” she deftly changes the subject. “So how is she doing?”

He's stopped in his tracks, in all their years together, since they’d found out a little too late that they were siblings; she’s never asked about their mother.

“She was worried, about Akuze…” 

There; her eyes tighten at the corners, it's the slightest indication that it bothers her-that she believes their mother doesn’t and has never cared about her. 

He lifts her chin, dropping a soft kiss on her lips, “And Torfan. She even mentioned that he did a hell of a job with you. Well, your biotics to be exact.” 

He decides to push the issue.

“Haven’t you ever wanted to know why she took me instead?” 

He smiles as she rolls her shoulders before tossing her hair back and he really wants to tell her that, that movement is something that their mother does as well. 

“No, I needed to be with dad. I know my biotics scare her. She’d always hoped that ... she didn't want a biotic child. I just think she should have considered that before popping her knees for the Berserker."

She leans into him, a hand going to his ass, “Let's continue this somewhere else, like my place, naked?”

Her eyes close as he runs a hand over her cheek, thumb stroking across her lower lip. 

He can’t stop the hiss that escapes him as she nips the pad of skin or the smile that cracks his face, “Can I get a rain check? If I go home with you tonight….”

She nods, “I’ll take that as a compliment and I know; it’s always work first play later with you. Know this, if I don’t see you tomorrow night, then don’t expect to see me on the third.” 

He receives no kiss.

It's his punishment for declining.

At least that is his thought until the familiar scent of burnt eezo envelopes him as he’s lifted and dragged to her.

She catches him with her lips, “I always keep my promises.”

She releases him on the step below breaking the kiss.

“Which promise would that be?” He asks lacing his hands behind his back. 

He knows if he touches her it will be all over, he won’t stop and they’ll end up in bed tonight, tomorrow and the next.

“Always kiss me good night, remember?” She winks at him then takes off up the stairs, leaving him with a smile so big he feel as if his face will crack.


	3. The Games We Play.

She’s not the least surprised that she doesn't see him until they're given the perfunctory tour of the Normandy, three days later.

Anderson has no problem admitting that the two work well together, their efficiency and coordination is uncanny.

His desk is littered with data-pads containing concise reports; cross checked by each officer, within a day of their postings. 

He can see why there were never any questions in their previous commands, even their scrawled signatures are identical.

Much to his relief; Anderson is left alone during the first few weeks, his new XO handles issues among the crew with such ruthless efficiency that they never make it to him.

At least that's what he believes until the door to his cabin open.

“Unless this is a life or death situation, see the Commander,” he barks his eyes never leave the monitor. 

“Anderson, unless you want a footless XO, we are going to have to do something about the bunk beds,” the man laughs.

David turns just as the man offers a charming grin before running a hand over his skull.

“Commander, there’s nothing wrong with the bunk beds. They’re standard issue on all ships. The only difference is that they are of turian design.” Anderson offers through clenched teeth, rotating his neck until it pops, only then does he continues.

“Besides there was one bed and one desk before I was delivered two Shepards. Nothing I can do about it now.” 

With a shrug the Commander turns and quits the cabin, Anderson scrubs a hand across his face and returns to his reports.

On the crew deck, Declan finds Adan chatting up the second biotic in their crew, Kaidan Alenko.

She waves him over, asking Alenko, “So how was BaAT?” 

DeClan rests a shoulder against the large monitor, giving a nod of greeting to both Alenko and Adan.

“Hard, definitely didn’t live up to the fancy brochures they sent our parents, not to mention…” Kaidan smiles nervously.

“Yeah I’d heard rumors that the teachers weren’t …” she points at herself and then the biotic, “they weren’t us.”

Declan can’t help but notice that the Alenko’s eyes light up when she puts the two of them together.

I need to break this shit up real quick, is his only thought as he speaks.

“Really Commander? There’s no mention of an Alliance program in your file,” he smirks, watching Alenko’s brows go up.

She chuckles, heading over to a table with both men following her.

When she sits, Declan takes the chair next to her, leaving Alenko to take one of the chairs on the opposite side of the table..

The arrangement present no problem for Kaidan; he is positively content; given the way he meets Adan’s eyes before relaxing back into the chair.

Unraveling the mess of titan curls from the braid, Adan scratches at her scalp for several minutes before flipping it from her eyes.

“No Commander,” she starts-pinning DeClan with a pointed stare, “Alliance training was waived. My dad trained me.” 

She pauses long enough to wrangle her hair back into it’s tight braid and Alenko fills the silence.

“So, your dad, was he a trainer at BaAT or Jump Zero?” Alenko asks.

“Neither, he’s the Berserker,” she smiles her eyes warm with affection.

Kaidan grabs her hand, remembers where they are and drops it as if he’s been burnt.

“Sorry, I got a bit excited but are you serious? Your dad’s the Biotic Berserker. The man who can pull a charge without a flare? The biotic that … that doesn’t need modded warp ammo...wow your dad’s…”

She smiles, answering, “Yeah, he’s all that and more. If I remember, he’s advanced-well devolved into some old habits. He flat lines his enemies now. Well, he used to before they gave him Anderson’s old post.”

Both DeClan and Alenko have to actively close their mouths.

“Flat line?” Declan asks hesitantly.

She nods her head, “Yeah, flat line… he shuts down his enemy’s heart.”

Both men shake their head, quipping, “Biotics can’t … “

Kaidan’s lips press into a thin line, “We do that!” 

Adan tilts her head, brushing at the curls that tickle at her temples, “Why not? The body is an electrical powerhouse.”

Spreading her hands, her face grows serious, “Biotics use charged eezo, which is just an advance form of electricity. If you know where the current starts and ends then you can kill the circuit.”

Alenko sits back in his chair, arms crossing as his brow furrowed in concentration, processing what he’s just been told.

The tilt of his and DeClan’s head give them both away.

Adan offers a knowing smile, “I haven’t gotten that far yet. I just picked up my first A&P book last week.” 

She rises from the table and leaves the two of them sitting in silence until Kaidan speaks.

“About how long do you think it will take her to figure that out?” 

When their eyes meet, he receives a grim stare before DeClan speaks, “Do we really want the Butcher to know that is a better question?”

An hour later he finds her on the bridge looking over Joker’s shoulder, the Spectre; Nihlus Kryik, at her side. 

The thud of his boots turns her head, he gives a jerk of his head, mouthing for her to meet him in the cargo bay.

She’s barely clears the first row of stacked crates when she’s snatched off her feet.

“So tell me about the turian?” He breathes into her hair, single handedly; lifting her onto an overturned crate while the other hand makes quick work of her over shirt.

“Do you really want to know?” She removes the wide belt to undo the buttons of her cargos as he tugs off her boots and pants to draw her knees over his shoulders. 

“He doesn’t think I muddle his tongue,” she remarks as he puts his mouth to her. 

A snorting chuckle escapes her lips when he raises his head to reveal lips that are pressed into a hard line, “We haven’t been on the ship a month and you’ve already done the Spectre? Where, when?” 

She stretches, dark navy lifting to reveal barely healed scratches that span the length of her waist. 

“I could ask the same of you," she sighs, rising up to her elbows; "your navigator’s a blabber mouth. She goes on and on about how big you are, sighing and cooing about how gentle and considerate you are. How many times you ma ...” 

He shuts her up by slamming into her, well, it doesn’t shut her up as much as end the current dialogue.

He finds her still slick, wet with the Spectre’s spend.

It angers and turns him on, causing him to swell thicker inside her. 

He dips his thumb between her parted lips, his head rocking back when she gives the digit a hard suck then bites down on it when she convulses around him. 

His hand tightening at her hip pulls a gasp from her and he retrieves the bruised digit.

Shaking his head, he knows he’ll have to doctor it himself, as he really doesn't want to have to explain this one to Chakwas or anyone. 

“Did he make you come this fast?” He growls as he tilts her hips upward, narrowing her sheath around him. 

She nods, laughing through her release, “Nearly a dozen times before he finally fucked me. You gonna keep score now?” 

“Slut,” he laughs as she comes again drawing her lower lip between her teeth to muffle her cries.

Lowering her legs to his waist, she locks her arms around his neck and rides him down to the floor, biotics flaring to cushion his fall.

When his beneath her she trips a miniature lightening storm across his skin that nearly pushes him over the edge. 

“You kiss your mother with that mouth, Commander?” She snarls into his face, her eyes deadly serious, “FYI, I’ve only slept with three men. You, the turian and the other is really none of your business. So how is your navigator? Is she vocal?” 

He shakes his head, throbbing within her, but he won’t release. 

“Come on, tell me. Did you come or did you fake it? You promised to hold it." She needles.

“Faked it,” he grits out between clenched teeth, earning a smile as she presses on, her hips rocking him within walls that tighten and milk him.

“So did you know that sparring is foreplay to turians?” She asks on a breathy gasp.

He bangs his head against the floor.

“I hate you. Hate you, hate you!” Is the mantra that leaves his lips while she continues.

“They don’t give head either, something about the teeth. Speaking of tongue. His, not yours, isn’t like ours, it’s like a cat’s tongue but much longer and agile.” 

She grinds herself against him, laughing.

“Adan, I really don’t give a shit about that right now. Just shut the fuck up?” He moans as she tightens herself around him, planting her feet alongside his thighs to lift herself so she can glide up and down his length.

His hands go around her waist to hold her to him as he strokes against her g-spot and grinds her clit into the wiry hair at his groin. 

Her head goes back and he wishes he had more time to pull her hair loose, to feel it’s heated weight.

Her breath leaves her on muffled panting moans and her biotics crackle against him. 

He smirks as she continues the pace he’s set and he strokes across the engorged bud at her center.

“Are you close?” He asks but he already knows the answer to his question. 

The tell tale flush that blooms up her neck to color her cheeks but hasn’t quite reached the shell of her ears, is a strong give away as to how close she is.

She nods, attempting to increase the pace but he holds her still and delivers several hard thrusts before lifting her off him.

“Great, but I need you to hold that thought,” his omni-tool beeps, “I’ve got a meeting with Anderson in five minutes.” 

He sets her on the cold metal floor before he gets up, closes his trousers and readjusts his tunic.

He leaves her naked on the floor, mouth agape before her eyes narrow in anger.

He is nearly onto the lift when a toss flings him into the far wall as the door closes behind him.

His head bounces on the dense metal and despite the ringing in his ears he can hear her chortling.


	4. I Can't Say It To Your Face....

She avoids him for the rest of the week and he’s both pissed and intrigued that whenever she disappears because the turian is MIA as well. 

Even in their cabin, she’s distant. 

She's back in the top bunk now or hitting the hot sleepers if he’s too persistent.

If she’s talking to Alenko and he shows up, she ends the conversation and disappears.

The rest of the crew never picks up on the animosity because if they haven’t learn anything since the last time they were stationed together-it’s how to keep their personal shit personal.

When she finally returns to his bed, it’s the night after Anderson informed them that they’d be making a jump to Eden Prime.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this one,” she whispers into his neck.

He does as well.

It’s a feeling he’s had for the last three days and he’s sure she’s had it just as long.

He strokes her hair as he turns to meet her eyes, “Yeah, me too.” 

He kisses her softly, attempting to pull her beneath him. 

She resists for a few brief seconds and then gives in when he puts his lips to her neck, nipping and mouthing the sensitive skin there. 

When he runs his tongue beneath the collar of her tee, he tastes blood. 

“You’ve never let me bite you like that. So, what? Does that make you his mate, now?” He smiles against her.

“Nope, just means he’s really happy with me. Turians scent their mates first, then mark, jackass,” she replies nonchalantly.

He wraps a leg over his waist, readjusting his weight, “You seem to know a lot about them. What’s up with that?”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing heavily.

“Maybe if you picked up books with more words than pictures you’d have a clue but since that’s not going to happen I’ll enlighten you.” Her voice is tired as she speaks.

“Salarians don’t really have fucking bits but a cloaca. Quarian females have a double clit and if you don’t stimulate both during sex she won’t get pregnant. Asari are built more like a flower a la Georgia O’Keefe and turians scent, then mark.”

She finishes on a sigh of exasperation, closing her eyes, “I’m curious about the people we share our galaxy with and I want to understand them, all of them, not just turians.”

“Sounds like you’re still mad at me. Are you?” He asks, suddenly very serious.

“Hmmm,” she breaths into his neck, “you dumped me bare assed on the cargo hold floor. I mean really, the nastiest place in the entire ship, then hell yeah I’m still just a bit upset about that,” although her voice is serious her eyes hold a hint of amusement.

“I thought it was about not letting you come, but I’m sorry for dropping you on the floor of the nastiest place in the entire ship," he runs his lips over her bisected brow and down her cheek.

"I’d have thought the unisex bathroom held that honor,” he laughs.

She shakes her head slowly as an old nervous habit shows itself.

He watches her fingers work at a length of hair, tying off tiny knots only to rip through them and start again.

“DeClan, really? Have you seen anyone cleaning the cargo bay? Shit comes in, shit goes out. Mineral samples, crates, boots, vehicles. It’s like there’s an unsaid agreement that the cargo bay is just going to be dirty,” a yawn slurs the last of her sentence.

A smile curves his lips while he wishes it was his cock stretching her lips, that thought is stolen by what he sees across her wrist when she covers her mouth with the back of her hand.

It’s something he’s missed all this time; there, on the inside of her wrist, in delicate script is the date and time of his, their birth.

“When did you get that?” He asks quietly, holding her arm in place.

“The night they separated us. They shipped me to the Citadel. I found a tattoo shop down in the lower wards,” she rotates her wrist inward and lifts her head to plant a kiss across the ink.

“I realized then that I didn’t just love you but that I was in love with you. The artist thought it was strange that I was getting my birthdate tatted on my arm but,” she gives a shrug, tucking her arm behind her head.

As he looks at her, he realizes that this is the first time since they’ve found each other that she has displayed any softness or vulnerability. 

He’d realized long before they were separated that he’d loved and was in love with her but then like now he didn’t know how to tell or show her without everyone else seeing it as well.

She shifts beneath him and he lifts his weight allowing her to roll onto her side.

He curls into her listening to the beat of her heart as she drapes her limbs over him. 

Seconds later the cadence of her breathing changes and she’s asleep.

When he tightens his arm around her she sighs contentedly. 

“I love you too,” he whispers into the quiet room, watching the bedside clock tick away the hours.


	5. Broken

When he awakens; he’s alone, opening his omni tool he sends her a ping that goes unanswered. 

After a quick shower, dressing in BDU’s and heavy boots he quits the cabin. 

A glance at his omni tool reveals that it’s early enough to grab breakfast, so he does. 

Alenko joins him, in an attempt to break the silence, he makes a passing joke about the amount of food the biotic is packing away. 

It’s usually something he does with Adan but she isn’t here right now. 

Kaidan immediately begins to defend his appetite; explaining that a biotic’s caloric intake is much greater than everyone else, when Declan hold up his hands.

“It’s a joke, Alenko. I’ve seen Adan put down two porterhouses, three loaded baked potatoes, salad and all the other fixings and ask for dessert afterwards. I know you guys need the calories, I’m just trying to break the tension here.”

The biotic takes a couple of bites of his eggs, his face reveals that he’s considering his words very carefully. 

“I didn’t realize there was tension between us. Anything I can do relieve it?” He finally asks.

Declan is unsure if what he’s hearing beneath the words is there, so he ignores it, “What I mean Kaidan...do you mind me calling you Kaidan?” 

The biotic shakes his head, as a ghost of a smile curves his lips and warm brown eyes pin DeClan to his seat.  
“I’ve noticed that you and the crew seem more comfortable talking to Adan,” DeClan probes cautiously, taking a sip of his coffee and pushing the plate away after laying the utensil neatly in the center.

“Adan, I mean Commander Shepard … well, look it’s just that the S1 is, ah, more approachable then you. She engages us. She seems to go out her way to get to know us. She’s even got the Spectre to laugh and stop hovering around the bridge,” the biotic shrugs his shoulders before continuing, “we know it’s probably part of her job but she doesn’t make it feel like her job.”

Declan laughs, he really likes hearing that his hard as nails lover is well liked by the crew.

“So you’re saying I’m unapproachable?” He finally asks.

Kaiden holds up his hands, “Not at all, but we’ve noticed that you’ve taken on most of Anderson’s duties, so there’s a silent agreement not to bother you, that’s all.”

Declan laughs, “Got it, by the way, have you seen Adan?”

The biotic nods, “Last I heard, she was down in the armory working on some mods. The entire ship is a bit tense about Eden Prime but no one can say why.”

Declan nods as he slides his chair back and rises, “I’ll see if I can find out and it was nice talking to you, Kaidan. Let’s do it again.”

“Yeah, uh sure,” the major answers; watching as the man places his dishes into the auto cleaner and disappear around the divider, before he resumes eating.

He finds Adan exactly where Kaidan said she’d be, except she's not alone. 

The turian is at her side, their heads bent together over the weapon’s bench; currently littered with weapons parts, mods and discarded packaging.

As he approaches, he hears her speaking, her voice full of humor.

"I don't know who thought bullets were no longer needed but you can give me a .50 cal anytime," she brushes a stray hair from her forehead as her lips pull back in a smile when the Spectre speaks.

"It's my understanding that bullets are expensive," the turian’s harmonics rumble as he leans over her.

With practiced ease her fingers fly over her omni-tool, “Bullets are expensive but thermal clips overheat, their load is low and despite them being interchangeable they’re pieces of shit therefore our weapons are pieces of shit.”

She quickly assembles the weapon, adding the new mods and with another quick swipe of her omni-tool she check the specs.

“Besides there is nothing like a round mushrooming and turning your target’s head into a bloody mist,” she laughs, lifting the weighty weapon and fits it into the pocket of her shoulder before dropping her eye to the scope.

Seamlessly, she scans the room landing on him as he leans against Mako.

“DeClan,” she greets him and turns to hand the weapon off to the Spectre.

The turian mimics her movement, purring appreciatively after pulling the trigger and handing the weapon back to her; identifying all the modifications made, “Lighter, reduced the f.p.s. on the trigger, upgraded the scope, increased thermal clip size.”

She lifts a brow, “I thought turian’s were supposed to be first class when it came to weapons and mods, Nihlus?”

DeClan watches the interaction, the Spectre has obviously spent a lot time around and with humans because he’s picked up some of our habits. 

DeClan has to muffle a laugh when the turian’s brow plate quirks in question, his mandibles flutter, “Your point, Commander?”

She lifts the weapon again, pointing it at him and he laughs when a painting laser appears at his forehead then slowly travels to stop at his codpiece and up again.

“Heart rate elevated, increase in respirations, dilation of pupils....” 

The laser travels back down to his cod piece, “Hmm, turgid. Why? Nihlus, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were happy to see me,” her voice is husky with interest.

She lowers the weapon as DeClan approaches but it doesn’t stop the Spectre from speaking his mind.

“I have a weakness for women who can handle large weapons. Especially a woman who does so with competence. You owe me Adan. I; unlike most turians, am not fond of savoring the last heat sink. I’ll wait but not long. You do not want to be my prey.”

His eyes never leave hers, “Commander Shepard, It’s an honor to finally meet you. I look forward to working with you soon.”

DeClan can see exactly why the Spectre is attractive to his sister. 

He notices a few of the traits he keeps buried within himself in the male and he wonders, just for a moment, if he’d be able to handle him...

“Commander,” the turian’s voice pulls him from his thoughts.

He find himself face to face with the Spectre, bright jade eyes on his, “I’m sure I can help you work out your tension as well.”

The Spectre’s gaze drops to his crotch and back before the male leaves, sucking nearly all the air out of the room with his departure. 

“Wow,” he laughs, immediately jamming his hands in his pockets to readjust himself.

“I was wondering if the wood in your pants was for me, but,” she smiles, wiping her hands on a towel before crossing her arms under her breast, “I’m sure it’s for the turian that just left here.”

She leans a hip against the work bench, “Does that mean I can have a go at your Navigator?”

He isn’t sure what it is he hears in her voice, so he asks, “Is that jealousy I hear or are you being territorial?” 

He laughs in an attempt to dispel her anger.

She gives a short jerk of her chin, “No, just realizing that the rules you impose only apply to me.”

Her eyes bore into him for several minutes, then she walks away.

“What in the hell are you talking about? I’m getting real tired of seeing your damn back, Lieutenant Commander Shepard!” He barks.

A grin curves his lips when she stops, he’s pulling rank during a personal matter.

He watches as her back stiffens, shoulders squaring when she turns.

“DeClan,” she looks around to see the requisition officer leaning against the bulk head.

“You,” she calls putting the young man’s head on a swivel that rotates toward her voice, “yeah, You! Get the hell out of here!”

When the young man disappears onto the lift, she returns her attention to DeClan.

“Still playing dirty? That’s not going to get you out of this. The last time we were separated was because of shit. Just. Like. This,” she jabs a finger at him as her legs close the distance.

“Preston. Remember her? We promised that we wouldn’t fuck with each other’s significant others.” She crosses her arms under her breasts, resting her weight on her back foot, “I left your girl alone, DeClan. Even after that bitch climbed into my bed, I sent her home to you.” 

He is surprised at the tears darken her lashes while she continues, “Yet my first and only fight with Preston, you help her over it and me by fucking her and you didn’t stop there. You kept fucking her and me. I’d be on duty and you’d be in bed with her....”

Her lips are thin in her anger, voice thick in disgust, “Now you want Nihlus too? I was just wondering if I that means I could fuck your little navigator. I mean really, if I fuck Alenko, Joker or Anderson are you going to want a piece of that too? How does this work? Am I allowed to just fuck you and you can fuck whoever you want?”

He grabs her arms, intent on is shaking some damn sense into her. He recognizes his mistake much too late as he his back hits the bulk head.

Using every bit of strength not to fall to the floor, bracing his hands on his knees, he laughs, “So this is your plan? You want to start a fight before we get to Eden Prime, so you can be pissed and not worry?”

His eyes tighten in surprise, he hadn’t seen the punch until the ragged nail of her thumb cuts across the bridge of his nose, biotics crackling and sparking with the force of her restraint.

“This is not about me DeClan. This is about your selfishness. You believe that if you chase away anyone interested that you’ll have me to yourself. This is about you needing to own a piece of everything that I have and fucking over the rules that you put in place and expecting follow them without question.”

He watches her rein in her emotions, hands going up in surrender, “If you need to fuck Nihlus go. I hope he tears you apart because you definitely won’t be on nor will you come out on top. But know that if you cross this line a second time, I won’t forgive you no matter how much I love or am in love with you.”

When she uses a charge to cover the area between him and the lift he realizes that there is a line he hadn’t known existed and that for the second time since they’ve found each other she’s broken his damn ribs.


	6. Across the Breach.

“Sparring,” is his excuse to Chakwas, who gives him a pointed stare as he peels off his over shirt to roll onto the cold table, eyes closing to avoid any other questions.

He’s ordered to spend the night in the med bay and when he returns to their quarters the following night, she’s back in the top bunk with a book on upraised thighs.

“Can we talk?” he asks when she tucks the book into a drawer before turning onto her side.

“Nothing to talk about DeClan. I thought I was very clear the last time we talked. You were laid up in med bay while the rest of us were getting ready for the next mission. I’m tired. Now leave me alone.” 

Over the years he’s learned the inflections of her voice and unlike the other day he accepts that this is not a battle he’ll win. 

He also knows that if he pushes she will find somewhere else to sleep and it doesn’t matter where they are right now or how mad she is at him, he needs her close.

She throws herself into her work the following days.

There’s a PT test, weapons training and qualification, she even has Joker put the ship through it’s paces, as well as simulation training to test the safety harnesses and the ship’s drive core capacity.

Every night she showers with the rest of the crew, climbs into her bunk and is asleep without a word to him.

They are a week into their disagreement when he corners her in the cabin, his mouth going to hers as he whispers, “I’m sorry, Adan.” 

He teases the corner of her mouth, uses his teeth to tug at her lower lip trying hard to coax her into the kiss.

He pulls out all the tricks he knows she likes, still she doesn’t rise to the bait.

“You’re not sorry,” she whispers when he buries his face in her hair. “You’ve never liked being called on your bullshit and you figure we can kiss and make up and all will be right in your world.”

He cups her face, “You know what happened the last time ... they separated us. I don’t want that to happen again and I didn’t realize that you might really feel something for him. I thought it was casual.”

Her eyes take on an icy blue tint he’s never seen as she answers, “Have you known me to sleep with someone more than once and it be casual?”

He searches her eyes, “No, but you said you were serious about Preston yet you weren’t fucking her but someone else and me. You were serious about that person, not that little girl. You were so serious about that person you wouldn’t tell me who they were.”

He backs out of her space, “You were so serious that when you took off for wherever the hell you met him, you didn’t even tell me.”

He runs both hands over his head, the stubble rasping through the cabin, “Why? Out of all the men on this ship? Why him Daron?”

Her face softens, eyes warming while color creeps into her cheeks, surprising him.

“He sees me when he looks at me. Not Commander Shepard or the Butcher, nor the ruthless tactician and biotic that go with those titles,” she tucks her hair behind her ears.

“He sees me; Daron Adan Shepard. He gets me DeClan. Do you know how that makes me feel? That I don’t have to pretend to be soft. That I don’t have to pretend to be prey. To dress up, twirl my hair and giggle,” her gaze is distant and soft.  
He’s never told her but he sees her too. 

She rarely wears makeup and in his opinion she doesn’t need it, yet her only concession is the red lip balm that always graces her lips. 

Deep red brows wing above wide eyes with irises that shift and change to give away her every emotion and mood. She’s muscular without losing the softness at her breast and hips, despite all those things it’s her hair. 

Her hair had caught his attention, he’d fallen in love with her hair first, then her. 

Now that all genetic defects are removed after conception, red hair is a defect and to find it is a rarity, especially hers.

It’s titan red with deep gold and copper highlights that waves and spirals down her back to rest beneath the curve of her ass. 

When they are together her hair is an entity apart from her. 

It is a warm weight that caresses him, a veil or warm hands when they kiss and when he buries his hands in it, it spirals and wraps around them and his wrists as if it’s alive. 

She has used it to hold him tighter or to push him away if that was what she wanted.

Her eyes follow his hand, meeting his when he strokes then buries his hand into her hair.  
“I see you Adan. I’ve always seen you. I don’t know how to show you without everyone else seeing it too. He taught you how and when to drop your mask. Especially when you want and need to let those you care about inside. I don’t know how to do that, it’s all or nothing with me. I thought you loved that about me.”

She closes her eyes, “No DeClan, I’ve never chose to love bits and pieces of you. I love all of you and unlike you I love you enough to know when to let you go. I would be happy to have you all to myself, but what I know and you seemed to forget is that someone will eventually figure it out. Someday, they will find out and will never approve of us and neither will the Alliance. I have learned to share, you not so much.”

She avoids his stare when her eyes open, “I have to go. Nihlus...” 

He shutters his pain, his anger behind hard eyes that hold hers.

She smiles, “It’s been a week since, well.”

She slips beneath his arm, hair trailing through his fingers, “Good night DeClan.”


	7. When You Go Sniffing....

He waits several minutes to be sure she isn’t coming back before taking a seat at his desk.

Hacking nearly a dozen cameras, he finally locates the feed for the Spectre’s cabin just as the door seals in her wake.

There is no bunk, but an arrangement of pillows in the corner of the room, a weapons bench takes up another corner and a desk with a chair rounds out the rest of the furniture in the room.

He’s been waiting for her, if his greeting says anything. 

Gloved taloned hands cup the entirety of her head, tipping her face up to place a kiss on her lips.

She laughs against him as his mandible flutters with unheard words.

He watches another man strip gloves from dangerously sharp talons before he undresses his lover.

Those taloned hands then mouth caress; no, worship, every inch of skin exposed until she stands naked before him.

The Spectre’s armor is removed with deliberate movements to reveal broad shoulders, a jutting keel bone, slim waist and wiry, muscled limbs.

Her hands glide over oxblood colored plates, nails pressing into the thin seams between them tilting the turian’s head back.

When she puts her mouth to his waist, a hand wraps into her hair, pressing her to her knees.

The other hand strokes along her lips then jaw to coax her mouth open.

He watches his mandibles move, brow plates drawing down when Adan gives a shake of her head.

A hand tightens in her hair the other stroking along her lower lip as she speaks.

Her answer pleases him given that his cock emerges from behind plates and he dances the head along her lips.

His head falls forward when her tongue snakes out to tastes him, eyes never leaving hers as he speaks.

The chair beneath DeClan creaks as he leans back, pants suddenly tight as Adan tips her head back and the turian feeds the entire length of himself into her waiting mouth.

A flush darkens her skin, her throat works while the Spectre rides her face in a slow dance that heats even DeClan’s skin.

DeClan has never told her how beautiful she is when she’s done the same for him.

Watching her now, seeing only her cheeks and throat work as she takes the entirety of the male into her, he realizes she’s submitting to this male in a way she’s never done for him.

With the first jerk of the Spectre’s hips, DeClan watches her throat, cheeks and ears flush with the tell tale sign.

By the second jerk, she’s touching herself but stops, lacing her hands behind her back when Nihlus looks at her, it’s obvious that he’s ordered her to be still and his hand tightens in her hair.

Her breast heave and her hips match the rhythm of the turian’s cock.

The Spectre asks her something, earning a slow blink and hands that slide up to grab jutting hips.

She pulls him into her, cheeks hollowing with every thrust that she helps deliver.

With a trio of hard strokes, DeClan watches as Adan flushes from her nipples to the tip of her ears, eyes wide and glazed but focused on the male above her. 

DeClan is surprised at the gentle sweeps that caress Adan’s face.

The Spectre traces over her brows, talons dance over thick lashes, the bridge of her nose then her lips.

He strokes her throat, shaking his head at whatever question is in her eyes as he withdraws from her and his cock disappears behind the plates at his groin.

He helps her from her knees, a hand provides a firm push toward the weapon’s bench along the far wall.

She lifts herself onto it pressing her back against the cold metal, eyes closing in pleasure at the sensation while her thighs fall open to reveal slick, glistening lips.

“Tell me what you want Daron,” Nihlus purrs, less aggressive now that the ache in his balls have been sated.

“Why? If I tell you, you’ll deny me,” she answers.

His ranged laugh washes over her. “Tell me anyway.”  
Thoughts shuttered she lowers her lashes, hiding from his intense gaze.

She intrigues him.

The crew sees the hard exterior, the mask that is always in place.

He’s been snared since he caught her leaving the co-ed bathroom a month ago.

The length of her fringe-hair darkened with left over water. Those strange eyes shifting through a myriad of colors before settling on a strange gold-green as her scent filled his nose.

He’d herded her back into the bathroom and had her there.

She sang under his touch then as she does now, trilling her pleasure in a way that was nearly turian when it bounced off the still dripping walls to his ears.

And now that he’s had her again and again, he’s learned that despite her very dominant persona, she soars when allowed to submit.

Despite what he knows, the stigma that came with a turian being with a human, now that he’s had her.

Now, that her scent has seeped into his pores taunting and teasing him even when she’s not around, he was not wont to let her go.

“I need you. Now, however you’ll take me,” she moans with the fingers of one hand busy at the slick lips of her sex, the other cupping the heavy weight of her breast, fingers tugging at the nipple.

“And yet it appears that you don’t need me at all. To the edge Daron and not over. Understood?” He orders dropping into the pillows that make up his bed.

She tortures herself, the flush that stains her skin looks hot enough to burn if touched. 

Her breath devolves into throaty moans then quiet mewls that she cuts off by setting her teeth into her lower lip.

The scent of her arousal fills the air, nimble fingers quicken then slow, her hips jerk beneath the working of her hand.

In their time together, he’s learned much about her and that, he’s learned, indicates her control.

More accurately how much further he’d have to strip her of it before she releases the reins she hold so tightly.

The blinking red eye of the camera across the room gives away the fact that they are being spied upon.

He knows it is DeClan; his omni tool alerted him the minute it came online and from which terminal it was activated. 

Although he has no objection he’s not sure she’ll feel the same.

“Close,” she cries when her fingers disappear but the flush hasn’t deepened nor have the tell tale beads of sweat that gild her skin appeared.

“Liar,” he growls, snapping her eyes open where she realizes that on silent feet he’s reached the bench.

She cries out when he jerks her hips off the bench, bowing her back to drag her to his mouth, where his tongue completes the job she’s failed to do.

She is different from the other human women he’s been with.

There is none of the makeup, the perfumed skin or hair. 

Her sex is smooth leaving her open to everything from his fingers to the head of his cock or the tip of his tongue.

When she is beyond the veil of her own control, she becomes so slick that the smooth expanse of her sex and thighs, sometimes even her ass glistens with her own spend and he can draw taloned digits through it to bring the taste of her to his mouth while fucking her.

Her thighs tightening around his head is not a sign of her impending orgasm but gives away the fact that she is holding still, attempting to pull away.

During the month that they’ve been together like this she always runs from the first orgasm.

Her eyes closed tight, fist clenched and her teeth tearing into her lip to hold her cries.

He knows she fights to maintain control. 

To not appear soft, vulnerable, to not be diminished-even in bed.

Yet, he takes great pleasure in destroying that hard won control.

He steals it from her now by guiding her with his hands, fucking her against his tongue until she takes up the rhythm on her own.

Her hands go to the table and she tries to pull away but a hand at her belly and another at her ass keep her in place.

He nips at the engorged bud throbbing against his mouth plates then laves it with his tongue.

A gentle suck wrenches a curse from bruised lips.

“Let go Daron,” he whispers into her thigh, setting his sharp teeth there.

Her last defense appears, biotics crackle against his mandibles, sparking beneath his fingers.

He groans at the shock he’s delivered when he draws the turgid pearl into his mouth and dips two thick digits into her sex while working her against him.

“I can’t! Please, I can’t,” she cries on a hard moan when he rumbles against her.

From his own cabin, DeClan watches as Adan’s biotics pulse in time with her impending orgasm.

It starts as a faint pulse that grows until it is strong enough to put the entire room in a blue shift as bright as the Normandy’s own emissions.

He watches as Nihlus’ grip tightens around her waist, whether he’s holding her to him or up, he’s unsure.

He focuses on her face.

Eyes wide, the irises burning the same bright blue as her biotics, lip torn and beginning to weep blood between clenched teeth and hands knotted into the length of her hair, she sees everything and nothing.

Nihlus releases her clit, lowers her hips, his fingers busy within her. Searching, seeking and finding what he requires to push her over. 

He presses slow and deep, once then twice before she clamps down on him with a hard exhale through her nose.

He returns her to his mouth, tongue moving counter to his fingers.

A straight forward rhythm would keep her on edge, this pushes her over. 

The keening wail is music to his ears as she finally submits to the siren call of his fingers and tongue.

Fingers wet with her spend go into his mouth cleaning them as she rolls up, arms going around his neck, legs locking around his waist.

He carries her to his nest. 

Lying back into the pillows, he slides her onto him, coaxing her hips into a rocking glide that tips his head back in pleasure.

Her own wetness, reduces the viscosity of his own lube, that’s made to cushion and secure him in the slick channel of a Turian female, but with her it creates a delicious friction that’s enhanced by the mouth of her womb tripping over the head of his cock with every move.

Now broken of her control, she releases so easily, hips swiveling to trip her clit over the open plates between them. 

During their first interludes, she’d been hesitant when the first quake of her womb washed over her, taking up a staccato rhythm that held them both on edge, until he wound his length within her.

Tonight, she rocks into it.

Lifting her ass, she slams down onto him then grinds herself against the lip of his open plate before working her way to the tip of his cock.

“Daron,” her first name brings her back from wherever she’s gone, “I am not him. Be here with me or there with him but not both.” 

There is a pause in the snap of her hips, as her eyes open and she peers through tear darkened lashes.

“Fuck me Nihlus. Don’t do this. Don’t make love to me,” she whispers.

He shakes his head - lifting her from him, tucking her into his body to hide her from the camera.

“You’re not ready for that or me right now. Tell me why?” He asks.

Her hair is a trembling veil over her face as she answers, “He wants you too.”

His attempt to remove her hair is met with a hard shake of her head.

He allows her this small privacy, asking, “What of your agreement? It seemed very clear that the two of you had a simple accord. He, his navigator and you, I.”

She turns away from him, “We did until the cargo hold. I know what that look meant. I’ve seen it only once but...”

The mass of her hair shimmers in the dim light as she shakes her head, “He wants the piece of my heart that he believes I’ve given to you. If he fucks you then he has us.”

“If he fucks me...I am many things; Daron but never a bottom and have you?” he laughs while lifting her hair as he turns her into him.

Her eyes go to his then away. She doesn’t have to say a word, he has his answer.

He rises to his knees, sliding her beneath him while spreading her thighs and hilting himself inside her, “He can only take what you allow. I admit that I am surprise...”

Her gaze is hard when she looks up into his face, hands go to his chest to push him away, earning a threatening growl and flare of his mandibles.

“Are you so weak,” he finishes on a slow glide that rocks her head back.

“He can only take what you allow, as can I. So I ask, now. What will you give me?” He croons when she shudders around him.

He watches her nipples tighten, her face relaxing as pleasure heavy lids go half mast over jade irises that match his own.

“What will you give me?” He rumbles when her hands travel to his waist and calves lock at his hips, feet anchoring on his spurs to pull him deeper.

A swirl of his hip tips her closer toward a release that he withholds from her.

Her sharp little nails dig into the sensitive skin of his waist as she tries to rush him toward her release.

“Nihlus!” she cries with the next thrust, contorting her body so she can watch him disappear, glistening with her own wetness, inside her body.

“What will you give me?” He repeats, a thumb going to her clit and talons to the turgid tip of a nipple.

Wet heat engulfs him as she trembles beneath him her eyes wide and blind with pleasure.

“Me,” she whispers rocking in time with him as her thighs fall apart to give him more access.

“Spirits, please!” Her hands leave his waist; one goes to her breast and the other between them to his own.

He placates her, allows her the appearance of control, “Come for me.”

Her breath leaves her on a sigh when she guides him into the rhythm she needs to coax her body to his call.

Her skin burnishes from the tips of her breast, up her neck and to the shell of her ears.

She glows in the dim lights as sweat beads then slips off her skin.

He punctuates every gasp of breath with a thrust that becomes harder until she is screaming her surrender beneath him and begging for the next one and his as well.

He pushes her until she has no voice left before he joins her, bracing his weight on a hand while muffling a roar between the weight of her breasts.

Her nimble fingers go to the sensitive skin beneath his fringe, stroking and soothing him.

Back in their cabin, DeClan finishes himself, covering his hand with his own get as Nihlus presses his forehead to Adan’s and shields her from the camera with his own body.

Nihlus allows her a scant hour to sleep before he wakes her.


	8. Knight Takes Queen

With gentle hands he rolls to her knees but her pleas are urgent, “Hard Nihlus, take me hard.”

The first and second thrust lift her knees until he holds her in place, driving into her as she slicks around him.

She is tighter, shallower like this, he lands against the mouth of her womb with every stroke, her moans become throaty growls in her need.

Her hand taps a frantic staccato against the pillows, matching the pulse of her biotics before he finishes her with grinding rolls of his hips.

His talons skim along her back, trailing over the healed marks he’s left.

“Do it,” she gasps, arching into sharp points, that skip over her skin leaving welts in their wake.

“Soon,” he soothes, slowing his pace, to gentle rocking thrusts that nearly free him from her clenching sheath before he seals them together again.

The sounds of flesh coming together draws DeClan from his sleep, a hand goes to the ache in his neck.

Wincing he sits up in chair, eyes scanning the monitors.

The damn Spectre is on to him, he’d turned on the speakers while the siblings were asleep.

Grunts and hungry mewls punctuated by wet strokes assault his ears as with sleep fogged eyes he takes in Adan being rutted upon.  
A hand buried in her hair, angles face toward the camera, revealing irises that are a kaleidoscope of colors, her mouth slack with pleasure.

The skin at her hip is abraded, there’s a dual trio of angry red welts along her back.

His cock springs to life when her pleasure husked voice fills the cabin, “Harder, Nihlus...please!”

“You never answered my question, Daron,” the Spectre’s voice is a series of low growls that set DeClan’s own cock throbbing.

“What will you give me?” Nihlus asks again, increasing his pace to match her panting breaths.

DeClan’s own throbbing cock is forgotten, he needs to hear this. 

He knows that she will honor her word; no matter how or when it is given, and he hopes to hell he hasn’t lost her to the Spectre.

“Me,” she gasps beneath him.

“Again,” Nihlus croons, his head going back mandibles tight against his face.

“I to you and you to I,” she cries, stilling the turian’s movements.

DeClan watches as Nihlus leaves his sister, flipping her onto her back, “Daron Adan Shepard, you do not know what it is you are asking.”

Her eyes are a clear silver, belying her intent. She knows what it is she is asking.

With only the strength of her thighs, she pulls him into her, “I to you and you to I. My sword yours and yours mine. The Spirits are our witness, no others are needed.”

For several minutes he doesn’t move or answer her.

“I’ve made a mistake,” that same strength pushes her away, drawing her knees closed, a forearm drapes across her breasts in an attempt to shelter herself from his gaze.

The arm that comes up to shield her face, barely conceals the lone tear that DeClan sees coursing across the bridge of her nose.

Harmonic chiming breaks the silence, the turian sets his mark.

Mandibles race across Adan’s breasts, collarbone, both sides of her neck then across her cheeks before he gathers her into his arms.

“I to you and you to I. My sword yours and yours mines. The Spirits are our witness, no others are needed.” He sings, his dual toned voice rich, the words ring with a closing finality.

Rocking back on his heels, a hand wraps Adan’s legs around his hips before cupping her ass.

“There WILL be blood, pain and pleasure. Do you accept? Do you submit to this? To me?” He asks his forehead to hers.

“Yes. To this and to you,” she answers against his mouth.

Nihlus’ mandibles quirk in a smile at the sharp cry that escalates into a trilling moan, once he’s fully seated and his hips work in short, hard snaps.

“Nihlus,” her voice drops below the speakers range but it picks up the turian’s response, “and I you, Mate.”

Her eyes close in pleasure then open when a talon rakes across her brows.

He gives a shake of his head, “See me, not the void behind your lids.”

He cups her cheek, “Be here with me.” 

“Where shall I mark you?” He growls, going to his knees, lowering Adan into the pillows, very aware that he’s bared his mate to the camera. 

“He’s staking his claim,” DeClan murmurs to himself, meeting the turian’s eyes in the monitor before they go back to his sister.

Her entire body is flushed, the hair that frames her face are springy ringlets that stick to her skin. 

DeClan watches her breasts rock, the nipples tight points that beg to be teased, which Nihlus does with expert familiarity, arching her back.

He pulls from her lifting her hips to his mouth, that impossibly long tongue appears, lapping at the lips of her sex before parting them to reveal the pearl nestled there. 

With a quirk of his mandibles he takes it into his mouth. 

“Everywhere, anywhere,” she arches into his mouth.

Her entire body trembles as he murmurs against her, “Come for me.”

DeClan watches as she’s stolen away from him.

Her body heeds the turian’s call, the trembling muscles tighten turning her into a bridge.

He used to be the foot hold that held her to the world, now it’s the turian.

Two points contact hold her; that male’s hands at her ass and her own head, as with tongue, lips he spins her into the void.

DeClan watches as with gentle strokes and nips of lethal teeth, he brings Adan back to him, dropping kisses on her thighs before sliding between them.

The Spectre patiently waits until Adan’s eyes focus and a soft smile graces her lips before he hilts himself.

DeClan watches, enraged, as Adan welcomes the expanded girth of his cock, lifting her hips to take him in.

DeClan Aiden Shepard witnesses his sister, lover being impaled, but welcoming it, given the wet sounds of their bodies coming together.

There is no pulsing eezo, only the briefest flare, when her head rocks back offering her jugular to razor sharp teeth.

DeClan is unaware that to turian’s this is a submission, a silent plea for a mate’s mark.

Purring his pleasure at her gift he turns her chin with his own, sinking his teeth into the flesh between her neck and shoulder, slamming Adan onto him.

She holds fast, body enveloped in a firefly glow that reveals that her control is long gone.

The mental dam she obsessively maintains has broken, bleeding eezo blue over her and her lover.

Familiar lightening trips over Nihlus’ body.

It starts small only to pulse into a full blown barrier when Adan’s head drops back.

Nihlus croons his mating song to the woman in his arms as her voice breaks into hiccuping sobs with her orgasm.

“Are you ready for me, Mate?” He asks rolling the title over his tongue.

“Since the first time. I trust you.” She presses her lips to his mouth, emitting a croon of her own when his slowly feed her his tongue.

She whimpers; to his great satisfaction, when his cock thickens even further, the ridge and nodes swelling to lock him in place.

Grunts of discomfort give way to cries of pleasure when several nodes rise against the wonderful spot that sets her off around him. 

Her body shudders as the aftermath of one orgasm becomes a full blown release that nearly steals her consciousness.

“I am yours,” he purrs into her flesh as he fills her. 

The purr becomes a roar when she closes around him taking them both over the edge.

In seconds her breath falls into the even cadence he recognizes as sleep.

Lying down around her, a finger to his omni-tool over loads the security camera and he follows Adan down into sleep.


	9. Good Morning

She awakes to warm, gentle touches to find that Nihlus has carried her to the shower.

He’s settled them on the far back wall just outside the shower’s heated spray to clean the lacerations he’d inflicted. 

“Don’t fuss,” she yawns in protest to the gentle probing at her neck. 

“It is our nature to fuss over our mates. I’m proud that you are mines and bear my mark,” he scolds her.

Her eyes are filled with a mischievous light, “Prove it.”

“Insatiable,” he growls as she straddles him.

“Sounds like you’re complaining Spectre Kryik. I’m sure I can ply my wares elsewhere,” she laughs grabbing his fringe.  
“Not unless you want casualties on this vessel, Céile Kryik,” he groans as she rocks over him.

She is close, very close when her omni-tools beeps: “Commander, you’re needed on the bridge ASAP,” Jokers quips.

“It will keep,” Nihlus growls as he thrums within her, “I will not.”

“Who told you to stop?” Is her answering growl while her legs wrap at his waist before she braces herself against the wall.

The first thrust bruises her back, stealing her breath as does the second, third and fourth. 

When a hand locks at his waist, his teeth snap near her neck.

“Yield,” is the rasping growl that hastens her body to him, turning her attempts for breath into high pitched wheezes.

He offers his own breath but accompanies it with rapid fire thrusts of his hips that has her screaming into his mouth, ripping her lips on the exposed teeth and coating his tongue with blood.

He purrs in contentment when she shudders against him, milking away the ache in his balls as nimble fingers stroke his fringe, mandibles to continue a fluttering trail down into and over the rim of his cowl to rest at his shoulders.

Still buried within her, he bathes them both, it is only after he’s dried them off that he leaves her to help her into her pajamas.

“I will see you later or sooner depending on your appetite,” he laughs, planting a kiss on her lips before shooing her out the door.

DeClan greets her in the cabin with a mug brimming with coffee.

“In case you didn’t get much sleep,” he quits the cabin, leaving her alone to dress.

Standing before the mirror, her fingers and eyes linger over teeth marks that travel up her neck before dropping to the abraded skin between her thighs.

Absently, she explores long, finger shaped bruises tipped with thin cuts that peek over the waistband of her pajama bottoms. 

For a second she’s concerned, yet the marks are concealed once she’s dressed. 

She braids her hair and wraps it into an elegant bun against the back of her head, several swallows finish the lukewarm coffee and she heads for the bridge.

Her steps are halted by the quick sense of vertigo then acceleration as they are tethered by the mass relay and catapulted across deep space. 

Nihlus and DeClan are both over his shoulder, tossing out their own hard versions of compliments that earns a gimlet stare from Kaidan.

“I’m in awe, Joker. I’ve been on … I’ve never had a jump where I could actually feel the relay. That takes some talent,” she offers from behind Kaidan’s chair.

Nihlus’ mandibles quirk in a smile as his eyes slide over her on his way out.

Joker chirps the comm, alerting Anderson of their ETA and that Nihlus is on his way.

She coughs into her fist to cover the laugh when the man barks back that Nihlus is already there, “Tell Shepard to meet us in the Comm.”

“Which one,” he asks, his face animated with his aggravation.

“Both of them,” Anderson snarls before killing the connection. 

“You heard him Double mint twins. Get going,” Joker snarks, watching as both Kaidan and DeClan’s face twist in confusion.

“Brand of chewing gum from the early 20’s. The commercials featured two busty, bouncing blondes. Let’s go,” she clarifies before trotting down the throat of the ship.


	10. You Can't Take It Back.

DeClan watches as she soothes the Navigator’s trepidation about the mission, then gives Jenkins a pep talk before disappearing into the comm room.

When he arrives the Spectre is fingering the loose strands at her temples.

“I have always been curious about the color of your hair,” he looks over at DeClan, “and yours. It’s an anomaly of sorts, no?”

“Genetic defect is more accurate, most are filtered upon conception. My mom decided it wasn’t important,” DeClan offers.

“My father’s a ginger... Uh...red head. It would be kind of wrong to remove something native to himself,” Adan laughs.

Nihlus nods, “It’s good that the two of you arrived first. I wanted to talk to both of you.”

“About what?” They chime together.

“Yes, what is it that you want to speak to them about?” Anderson asks as the door closes.

“This isn’t just a shakedown for the Normandy. It’s an evaluation of the two of you as well.” Nihlus’ gaze shifts between the two.

Anderson interrupts and each twin’s bullshit meter fly into the red before they really listen, filtering out the extraneous info; taking in only the important bits.

The words: Specter, Eden Prime, Beacon and covert mission sink into the sibling’s grey matter all else is flotsam yet neither have time to assess their importance; Joker’s panicked voice announces incoming vid feed from the planet.

Adan takes off at a run at the first image leaving Anderson, DeClan and Nihlus to watch the carnage unfold.

Upon her return, DeClan has a chance to admire her new armor.

It’s not Alliance issued, there’s some after market perhaps black-market even.

It’s a matte black, the signature N7 badge and stripe are faded with wear. 

He nods his approval when the stripe and badge fade away as she tests her tactical cloak. 

“What in the hell are we waiting on?” She barks her eyes darting between Anderson and DeClan as Nihlus is always in armor.

“You,” Anderson says his hands clasped behind his back, “yes, those marines need our help but WE are here to locate, pick up and transport a Prothean beacon back to Alliance space. That is your mission.”

He turns away from the trio, “Your ETA is twenty minutes, gear up and good luck.”

The trio heads down to the cargo bay where Nihlus grabs his weapons; the Mattock and sniper rifle that Adan modified weeks before.

When she grabs her Viper, Nihlus takes the weapon only to hand her another.

A quick examination of the weapon reveals it’s from the HMWSR Master line of Sniper Rifles.

“Nihlus, I can’t...,” she starts but a shake of his head silences her.

“You can and you will. Consider it an early betrothal gift,” he glances at both her and DeClan before he leaves them.

In tense silence she assists DeClan, checking the specs on his armor and then his weapons before sliding them onto the mag strips.

“So a betrothal gift?” His voice is tight with an emotion she can’t place.

She meets his eyes answering with a terse nod, “Are willing to marry me, DeClan?”

“So you’re willing to give up on children, Adan?” He counters opening his omni-tool and drawing away.

He doesn’t notice the wince that pulls her mouth into a hard line as she walks away at Joker’s announcement.

Alenko, Jenkins, Nihlus and Anderson are already at the cargo door.

Jenkins rattles on excitedly and Kaidan gives her a nod.

Nihlus’ eyes are on her, at DeClan’s arrival his mandibles flutter once in question.

“So Nihlus, you’re going with us? This is going to be great!” Jenkins laughs.

“No, Nihlus is going to scout ahead, you and Alenko are with the XO,” Anderson corrects the young marine.

Nihlus’ eyes slide over DeClan to Adan, “You,” he nods, “with me. The rest of you, we’ll see you on the far side.”

The opening of the cargo door steals DeClan’s words and when she shrugs his hand from her shoulder, he wishes he could take back his hurtful words.

It’s too late.

She and any chance at an apology are swept away in the dust as Joker takes off for the next rondo point.


	11. Betrayed

Planet side is eerily quiet, luminescent bodies of gas float aimlessly and the horizon is painted peaches, rusts and ambers.

“He seemed surprised at our betrothal,” Nihlus’ voice breaks the silence.

With her eye to the scope she takes a deep breath and exhaling while squeezing the trigger; her target, a synthetic that she’s never seen.

“First, what the hell was that and yes, he might have mentioned that I’ll never be able to have children,” she says thoughtfully.

“He hurt you,” she’d expected a question not a firm statement; “Geth,” he supplies as an after thought.

“I’m...do I really seem like the mother type?” She moves from her current position to take cover behind an outcropping of rock.

She’s met with several minutes of silence, with no answer forthcoming, she lowers her eye to the scope, dispatching several more enemies.

His hand is light on her shoulder, surprising her.

“Most women don’t see themselves as mothers until they become one. I’d be proud to sire children with you,” His harmonics rumble, “now pull your head out of your ass and let’s find that beacon.”

They head toward the outskirts of the colony.

She’d usually handle the comm but DeClan’s barb is a hot ball of lead in the pit of her belly.

Nihlus’ commands are concise, sharp, leaving no opening for the quips and jokes, that DeClan is used to.

Comm closed, she takes off toward the space port to recon while Nihlus informs DeClan of their vector and goes back to radio silence.

Weapons fire fills her comm but it’s the sound of Jenkins going down that moves her pass her hurt and presses her toward the next objective. 

On the roof of a trailer, she cloaks herself watching Nihlus skirt the area.

When Nihlus runs across another turian, she creeps closer and opens a private channel to Nihlus on the private channel, “I’m at your six. Want an assist?” 

He gives a terse shake of his head, “Not yet, let’s see what’s going on.”

She watches through the scope as he leaves cover, then lowers his weapon, his dual toned voice questioning, “Saren?”

He approaches the Turian; his posture nonchalant before he holsters his weapon.

“You know him?” She whispers, catching the slight nod of his head.

“Nihlus,” the strange turian answers but there is no warmth or greeting in his voice, simply an acknowledgement.

“This isn’t your mission Saren. What are you doing here?” Nihlus asks of his old mentor, long time friend and ex lover.

She watches through her scope as the bare faced Saren touches Nihlus with old familiarity, “The council thought you could use some help on this run.”

He moves behind Nihlus, strange cybernetic eyes scanning the area.

She’s grateful for the improved tactical cloak as his gaze sweeps over her then moves on.

She flashes Nihlus once with the targeting laser, informing him of her position, now at his twelve, then adjusts her aim so that the laser paints the skull of the turian behind him.

“I wasn’t expecting to find the Geth here. The situation is bad,” he notes his eyes on the horizon. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve got the situation under control,” Saren turns, his heavy pistol drawn and fires, dropping Nihlus.

She’s pulls the trigger in time with the turian, watching as he staggers with the impact of the round.

His eyes sweep over her position and then he’s gone, taking off toward the rail line with his Geth in tow.

Leaping from her perch, she sprints to Nihlus, cradling him in her arms, “I was too slow…didn’t trust my gut. You said you knew him. I’m sorry…so sorry.” 

Her fingers trace the markings that cover his face and this is how DeClan, Kaidan and the female marine: Williams, find her.


	12. Not To Be.....

Cautiously, DeClan approaches her.

When she meets his gaze her eyes are a stricken blue - sparking with eezo and he steps back when she takes on an unfamiliar firefly glow.

She crosses Nihlus’ arms over his chest her head bows in a silent prayer before she stands.

“A turian-Saren, killed him. He’s mines,” her voice echoes her fury and DeClan can only nod.

A search of the mobile station reveals three survivors who hedge on what exactly they are doing there.  
It lasts until Adan levels her heavy pistol at the leader, “Do I look like someone you want to fuck with right now? Whatever the hell you’re hiding give it up now or I’ll take it while stepping over your dead corpse.”

Both Williams and Kaidan direct pointed stares at DeClan who shakes his head, warning them off.

They find Powell, the smuggler, napping behind the crates.

As he recounts what happened between Nihlus and Saren to the trio, Adan scours the area finding caches of mods, omni-gel and weapons.

She’s the first to fire her weapon, taking down two of the robots...Geth, she reminds herself. 

Nihlus called them Geth.

An impact to her barrier gets her out of her own head.

She pulls her cloak when DeClan’s first overload hits the synthetics, moving into a flanking position.

She and Kaidan snatch their enemies out into the open where Williams and DeClan take them out with a barrage of weapon’s fire. 

They tag team the bombs, fight their way to the rail and down the platform to the strange monolith awaiting them.

Noting that her rage is somewhat assuaged DeClan pulls her aside, “I’m sorry. No matter how...I didn’t want him dead, Adan. I’d never wish that on someone you care about, I just didn’t know how...”

He never finishes his sentence, Kaidan is caught up by the beacon and they both race to save him.

Adan charges across the last foot, knocking the biotic out of the beam with DeClan following to knock her away but they both end up trapped.

The eezo in Adan’s body reacts with the energy of the beam, muscles contract and pull until they sing with tension, snapping her then DeClan taut. 

Their minds are probed, memories dissected then filled with nightmarish scenes of death, blood, machines and destruction.

A warning rings in Adan’s ears, speaking of dead races, an unbeatable enemy and their last hope; the Conduit, lost on the planet...

DeClan receives the same nightmare images, however he’s not privileged to the audible warning then there’s darkness.

Anderson’s deep baritone mixes with the static in his skull, adding to the pulsing throb that’s amplified by the bright light above his head.

Groaning he throws an arm over his eyes, rolling onto his side he uses his other hand to push himself up into a sitting position before swatting at the lamp.

The ringing turns Anderson’s and Chakwas’ attention to him.

“I’m glad you decided to rejoin us,” Anderson teases, watching DeClan press a hand to his forehead.

“How long have I been out,” he squints against the headache throbbing behind his eyes.

“It’s been fourteen hours, we’re nearly back to Citadel space,” Anderson offers watching as the man’s head swivels, stopping when they land on his sister.

“She took the brunt of it, how’s she doing?” He slides off the table, crossing the room to stand over her, as she lies sleeping.

“Still out and Chakwas noticed some strange readings on her EEG. She’s not really sure what to make of it. Other than that she’s fine,” Anderson’s voice is tight.

Sighing, he lays a reassuring hand on DeClan’s shoulder, “Alenko says that the two of you saved his life. Can you tell me what happened out there?”

DeClan shakes his head, a hand going to Adan’s forehead, a thumb brushing across the sweep of her brows.

She takes a deep, shuddering breath then settles. 

The skin of her brow smoothes as her lids shift with the rapid movement of her eyes beneath them.

“Nihlus was killed by another turian; Saren - Adan and a colonist; Powell, witnessed it. There were geth, some strange ship and then the beacon grabbed Kaidan. Adan knocked him out the way and I tried … but we were both caught. It gave me some sort of vision; a nightmare, maybe a warning, then it destroyed itself. Maybe it was already damaged from the excavation, I couldn’t call it.”

DeClan gives a shake of his head, “It’s not something I’d report to the council if that’s what you’re asking.”


	13. Diplomacy is dead....

The sound of Anderson’s soles on the tile announce his retreat and DeClan allows his mask to drop.

He watches as her emotions break across her face drawing a heavy sigh from her lips and tears pool to course across her temples and into her hair.

“Damn it, Adan! You’re tougher than this!” He runs a hand over his own forehead.

“I saw the footage from Torfan! I read the inquiry, if you can pull through that shit, you can come back from this. I need you by my side when we face the council.”

His vision blurs, softening her face, splashes dot her face, setting her lashes fluttering.

“Damn you Nihlus, if you’ve broken her...If you’ve hurt her. If you weren’t dead already, I’d kill you myself,” He wipes hot tears from his face, takes several minutes to settle his emotions and leaves the med bay to find Kaidan waiting.

“Commander, she saved my ass out there. I don’t know what possessed me to... I shouldn’t have touched the beacon,” he offers in way of apology.

“It’s all right Kaidan, none of us has ever been around a beacon. How in the hell were you supposed to know. You can thank her when she’s back on her feet.” DeClan replies his mask dropping into place.

He leaves the man alone with his thoughts, retreating to their cabin to fill out the reports he knows Anderson will require to deal with the council.

Adan is still out when they dock and head to Udina’s office and given the man’s attitude, he’s is well aware that the man may end up as a Jackson Pollock in his own office.

“Shepard, you’ve ruined any chance we may of had of having a human made Spectre. All you needed to do was retrieve the beacon and bring it back to the Citadel. Now, the beacon is destroyed. Nihlus is dead. How in the hell...” when the man turns to DeClan he takes a step back.

The look on the Commander’s face is one he’s seen before only on a female he’s had the misfortune of attempting to blacklist within the Alliance.

“That is Spectre Kryik, Ambassador Udina and neither I nor my team did anything to actively destroy the beacon. It was destroyed after nearly killing Alenko and my S1, who is still unconscious, in the Normandy’s med bay. Nihlus was killed by another turian; Saren. Does that name mean anything to you?”

Even Anderson notices the hard flint in DeClan’s gaze, he recognizes the look. 

It was the same one that graced Adan’s own features during the inquiry after Torfan. 

It meant the man would not be cowed or back down. 

“I’ll have to do some investigating but I’ll get us a meeting with the Council,” Udina moves away from the group of marines, taking shelter behind his desk and the data pads that litter the surface.

Anderson follows DeClan out into the hall, “Put the crew on seventy-two hours shore leave, be ready for the council.”

DeClan turns on his heel, his destination is the Normandy’s med bay and the woman he loves.


	14. You're Full Of....

His impatience is revealed in the tapping of blunt finger nails against the gauntlet of his armor, despite all the technology in the world, elevators have gotten slower and slower.

His face is a tight mask when he steps through the airlock of the Normandy.

A long legged gait eats up the distance to the steps and he finds the bed where she’d lain empty.

Chakwas looks up from her monitor, “She’s gone. Something on her omni-tool sent her racing off.”

He hesitates for a second, wondering what she’s found.

HIs steps quickens to a light jog then into a run once he’s off the lift in C-Sec. 

Rapid transit takes him to the ward where her apartment is located.

Coding the lock, the door parts to reveal Daron; on the balcony, staring out at the artificially bright sky.

“Adan,” he calls out alerting her to his presence before joining her. 

Silent tears course her cheeks and a trembling hand lifts a cigarette to her lips. 

She inhales shakily, exhaling through her nose as she holds it out to him.

He takes it, inhaling the strong clove smoke, then coughing against the tickle at the back of his throat.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you smoke. You want to tell me what’s on your mind?” He smooths the springing curls that course across her face with the breeze.

She pulls away, “I got knocked on my ass DeClan, it doesn’t mean I forgot what you said.”

Dropping into a chair, she wraps her arms around her knees, he joins her taking another drag of the cigarette before passing it back.

“Do you remember? You fell in love once. Even made it down the aisle and said I do,” she tucks the cigarette into the corner of her mouth, hands wrapping her hair into a messy knot at the nape of her neck.

“Built the house that I’d designed; in Vancouver, on the lake we’d first made love in. Even had a nursery all ready to go,” she takes one last drag and flips the butt over the railing.

“But for losing her on Mindoir, when she went to visit her parents, you’d have keep moving without a second thought about me.” Using the sleeve of her sweater, she cleans her face.

“I was even in your damn wedding. Stood at her side in that horrid gold dress, held her bouquet while you slid the ring on her finger and never said a damn word about it.”

She dashes angry tears from her face.

“I didn’t even open my mouth when they asked; ‘Does anyone object...’ although you’d been with me,” she tilts her head in thought, “not even three hours before.”

She gives a tearful snort of laughter and he watches her lips move but hears his voice, “Just one last time, Daron. I need to know. To remember what we feel like.”

Her eyes close with the memory, “Yet when I find someone. When I move on, you hold it against me because I didn't tell you who he was. Everything I have has to be yours.”

A finger halts the comment about to leave his lips, “Serious or not, what was our rule? Now, I find Nihlus, someone I want to have what you had with Shelby and you dig my heart out with a dull spoon the first chance you get with no remorse and expect me to forget it.”

She pushes herself up from the chair, standing over him, “I pledged a betrothal to him DeClan and that was enough for you to take a jab at me. How many times am I supposed to forgive you for shitting on me?”

When she disappears into the apartment, he’s left alone with her questions and his own. 

She’s never lain out all his missteps during their “relationship” and right now he feels like an ass. 

Has he really been that selfish? 

Had he given her a second thought when he commissioned the house she’d designed for them for another woman? 

When he questions how she happened to be Shelby’s Maid of Honor, it was he who’d pushed the young woman he’d fallen in love with toward Adan. 

Had he badgered her about who she’d started dating once he resurfaced after Shelby’s death? 

He runs a hand over his scalp as he answers each question with a resounding yes and his dig at Nihlus - insult added to injury.

In the kitchen, her hands are busy turning the wok and flipping the contents with the flat wooden tool.

Adding a dollop of the spicy red paste that they both like, she hand silences the chime of the rice cooker on the first ding while removing the wok from the blue flame it rests on.

He removes his armor, setting it in the closet near the door before retreating to the powder room to wash his hands.

His sits at the table a second before she sets their plates on the table, filling both glasses with white wine before joining him.

“Daron, I’m sorry...” he starts but is cut off.

Shaking her head, she snorts, “Don’t say you’re sorry because you’re not. Maybe you’re sorry that I pointed all that shit out to you but you’re never sorry about what you do. So don’t start lying to me or yourself.”

She snaps the napkin into her lap, ending the conversation when her fingers deftly work the chopsticks, tucking small bites of food into her mouth.

They finish the meal together, in silence, and she clears their plates and cleans the kitchen.

She’s been angry with him before but tonight he realizes that they are farther apart than when he’d been on Akuze and she was doing her thing at Torfan. 

Uncomfortable, he quits the tense silence of the room for a hot shower.

When she joins him, she makes use of the jets farthest from him and his eyes move over her back taking in the marks that Nihlus has left on her body.

Claw marks decorate her back like the stripes of a tiger, when she turns, they continue up her sides to cup her breasts.

As striking as they are it’s the wounds that lace up her neck that fascinate him.

From the head of her shoulder nearly to her ears are teeth marks, the ones on the left are deeper and even her chin is marked.

Every mark is surrounded by an ugly deep, mottled purple and red that reveals she’s either refused or declined Medi-gel. 

He wonders if she cares that they will leave permanent scars without intervention.

Her eyes are sharp as he finishes his perusal.

She wastes no time beneath the water, cleaning her body and hair quickly, with a short stop under the heater that dries her from head to toe before quitting the bathroom.

When he finishes, he finds her staring at the bed before she climbs into it, unaware of the hot tears that course down her cheeks.

DeClan makes sure to pull on a pair of pajama pants before sliding into bed where she’s burrowed deep beneath the bedclothes.

Her breath speaks the even cadence of sleep, but her face betrays her emotions, her eyes race beneath her lids.

She whispers of a dead race, unheeded warnings, a lost chance and a planet forgotten by the galaxy as a whole.

Carefully he pulls her into his chest, resting her head on an outstretched arm.

It takes several minutes to work the tight fists from her hands, revealing bloody crescents in her palms. 

He presses them against his chest, tapping his fingers against hers to the steady beat of his heart.

Inch by inch, minute by minute he feels her slowly drop off into a more restful sleep and only then does he allow himself to do the same.


	15. Back to basics

He awakes alone, his arm tingling and the space where she’d lain cold.

Once his morning toiletry is done, he pads into the living room finding it empty as well, she’s taken off without a word.

Several data-pads litter the coffee table, dropping onto the sofa he snatches one up and it winks to life.

He scans the document once, drops it and picks up a second then a third, Spectre Nihlus Kryik, has left his sister well off.

The data pads disclose he’s bequeathed to Adan several bank accounts, all his weapons, access to Spectre requisitions, an apartment here on the Citadel and homes on Palaven and surprisingly Earth. 

She may have only promised a betrothal but the Spectre has made good on that promise, the license; already filed with both the meritocracy and reciprocal offices on Earth.

A small box sits on the table, opening it he finds Nihlus’ colony tags banded by black ribbon.

He’s angered by the discovery then disgusted by his own actions; the conversation they’d had over dinner comes back to him.

He can’t fathom how she’d let him have a life; stepped away when he’d married Shelby.

Her mercurial temper never once showed itself, she’d let him go yet he couldn’t do the same.

Even now, as if his actions before Eden Prime weren’t enough, he is pawing through her things, snooping through her life.

Disgusted with himself, he dresses in running pants, a tee and shoes, quitting the suite for the gym down in C-Sec.

On the opposite side of the Citadel, Adan makes her way toward her destination.

She hadn’t slept well even with DeClan there and risen earlier than her usual zero six wake up call.

She’s already been to the gym, showering and dressing there to save time.

Huerta Memorial’s pristine facade gives her a measure of peace when she steps through the doors into the atrium. 

After the Torfan incident; per Alliance protocol, she’d been ordered to see a psychologist.

She had absolutely no problem with the order, what she did have a problem with were the choices she’d been offered.

She’d refused the human, the Asari and had laughed herself breathless when they offered a Salarian. 

Their final choice; a drell, Tannor Nuara, with the caveat that if she found him “lacking” the choice and her career would be out of her hands.

Much to her surprise, Nuara, was a perfect fit and she continued to visit him even after she’d been cleared for duty.

She hadn’t expected him to answer her ping today but he had and a weight is lifted from her shoulders the moment she enters his office.

As usual the room is arid and dimly lit and a glass of water; sweating with condensation, is waiting for her on the table between the chairs. 

She isn’t fully planted in the seat when he speaks, “It has been nearly three years and always at my behest, never yours”

His voice soothes her jangled nerves, the music of it encourages her to speak, he’s never judged her only listened.

“I lost someone on my last mission,” she whispers on a heavy sigh.

“You loved him Daron. Can you not say it?” He asks draping himself in the chair next to her.

He meets her accusing gaze with a blink of his double green eyes, “It is in your voice. I have only heard it ...”

She shakes her head cutting him off, “I did! I didn’t know that I’d never get to say it again. Our mission was a barn swallow, nothing was supposed to go wrong. He knew the person that killed him...a friend, a former lover even. DeClan spied on us while we were...”

Fused fingers cut her off, “We’ve had this discussion before. How many times has he broken your trust yet you continue to forgive him? Why do you hold yourself still yet allow him to have a life?”

She has no answer for him or herself. 

She’d allowed or thought that she’d had let herself fall in love at least three times since they’d been together, but it has only happened twice, if she is honest with herself and she’s lost them both.

Her anger about Preston Childs wasn’t out of love for the woman. 

It was because he’d broken her trust, crossed the invisible line she’d drawn in the sand, he’d done it again with his marriage and now with Nihlus.

She knew that he would spy on her that night with Nihlus, she knew and didn’t care.

Although he’d broken her trust, again.

“Any other time you’d fill our time with inappropriate quips or colorful anecdotes yet today you are silent. Have you nothing to say?” He watches her push her hair from her face, cheeks wet with silent tears that she wipes away with the sleeve of her hoodie.

“I made a promise. To myself to never let anything come between us. I didn’t...”She tucks her hair behind her ears, “He made good on his word.”

He sits forward on the seat, elbows on his knees, as he questions, “DeClan?”

“No, Nihlus. He registered ... on Earth, Palaven. I’m a widow,” she snorts, “a very well provided for widow.”

“You’re marriage, Daron, he registered your marriage. Still you avoid answering the questions put to you. Does a promise outweigh you having a life, a full life with someone to love, who loves you? Who treats you as if you are a treasure to him or her, not someone who shelves you until they need you?” His elegant voice is clipped as he rises from the chair, hands clasped behind his back.

He goes to the window, looking out through the polarized glass to the people moving below.

“I do not have the answers you seek Daron. Only more questions. When was your last visit with the priests?” He knows the answer, they have already spoken to him. 

It’s been eighteen months since she’s last attended to her training. 

When he took her case-her tutelage with the priests had been a nonnegotiable requirement.

Upon their first consult, he saw so clearly in her what he’d nearly lost in himself before his wife.

He realized that the training would teach her to control her anger, to separate herself from her emotions and provide balance.  
As he’d predicted she’d taken to it as if she’d been born to it.

It had provided her with a center and the meditations enhanced her biotic ability, allowing her to expand her skill set.

Once she’d learned she’d be stationed with him again, her visits ceased and as he’d expected she’d returned to him.

Broken, betrayed and hurt.

Her perfect facade shattered, tears unchecked, nose running and out of defenses against his probing questions.

The events of Torfan hadn’t been a mistake.

It had been an expression of her rage and betrayal onto those who happened to be at the business end of her pistol at the wrong time.

The images he’d received had shown a brutal and bloody execution of her foes.

She’d been unapologetic, callous and immediately referred for a psych eval.

She’d balked at the “assigned” physicians, he’d been her choice despite the threat the Alliance had tossed at her.

“I have nothing to offer you, Daron. You are aware of my opinion on that particular relationship and no one can make you move on if you aren’t ready to do so. Are you ready to accept that you may never be ready to move on?” He tosses the words at her.

She buried her face in her hands, wiping tears from her face.

When she looks up he is gone.

“I fucking hate when you do that!” She screams into the empty room.


	16. Old traditions.

An hour later, surrounded by the gentle lights emitting from the hanar passengers, Adan formulates a plan, one that requires her to return to a place she hasn’t visited since the grapevine revealed her assignment to the Normandy.

DeClan spends most of the day and afternoon in the gym, his head filled with the questions Adan had hurled at him over dinner.

He is into his fourth lap around the Presidium when his questions finally stop haunting him.

He’s answered his and her questions.

He wanted her and whomever else he thought had or could claim her heart. 

He needed her to be there for him, waiting for him. 

He didn’t want her to find happiness in the arms of someone else. 

He wanted her to find happiness in his.

The third year into their affair she’d wanted to inform their parents that they’d found each other.

He stole her resolve on Earth, in Vancouver by making love to her in the cold water, on the sun warmed sand, grass that left them streaked with it’s color, back to the lake and repeated the cycle until he had to carry her sleeping and sated form into their tent.

She’d never mentioned their parents again.

He had assumed that she wanted to tell their parent’s that they’d fallen in love but she’d only wanted to ask why they’d split them up and to meet their mother.

He hadn’t slept with Preston anger, it was revenge that drove him to it. 

Adan had fallen in love with someone.

Someone she wouldn’t tell him about. 

It showed in her eyes. Her voice. 

She’d returned many weekends with her skin abraded, lips torn and sated beyond measure.

At the time he hadn’t thought about his actions and he lost her for two years.

When he’d heard about Torfan and the following inquiry, he’d nearly quit the Alliance.

Any attempt to contact her during those two years had been refused.

His email messages were bounced back, omni tool messages dead headed, even the letters he’d sent to their father’s home were returned.

Then eighteen months later, she returned to him, biotics honed into a precision weapon, her mercurial temper controlled and as beautiful to him as the day he’d first seen her.

Barely two months into their first tour together and he’s pushed when he felt threatened and she is gone again.

His musing take him back to her apartment to find it still empty.

He showers, has a quick meal and settles himself on the sofa with a vid to keep him company until her return.

He awakens, sprawled across the sofa, a check of the apartment reveals that he’s alone and still there is no word from Adan.

She doesn’t return that night or the next and he begins to worry when he receives a ping from Anderson alerting him that the council have granted an audience the following morning at eleven hundred hours.

He’s resigned when she doesn’t return to the apartment and falls asleep in her bed after setting the alarm for nine am.

His mood hasn’t improved by morning, he dresses in his armor, has a quick breakfast then heads for the Tower.

Kaidan, Williams and Anderson are already there, as is Adan; her armor detailed in black and oxblood, a band of mourning at her left bicep, bracketed by two new ammo pouches. 

Warrior braids dangle from her temples, all of it has been darkened to the blood red of their father’s and the entire left side of her face is shaded by dark paint, Nihlus’s bisected colony marks stand out in stark contrast. 

Her eyes burn a deep sapphire when she looks up at him.

“Are we ready?” Anderson asks, actively avoiding Adan’s presence.

The entire group nods and they join Udina. 

He’s ranting at the council as a holo of Saren looms over them.

The entire meeting is a mockery and waste of time to DeClan, the Spectre pontificates and gloats.

As he continues to speak, a sound tickles at the subrange of DeClan’s hearing, evolving into a full throated growl that stops even the turian’s diatribe.

Adan spits something at the holo that only he and the Turian councilor blink at.

When Saren speaks Adan steps from behind the group revealing herself, engaging the holo.

They continue for several moments until Adan reaches into her gauntlet, draws a blade and cuts deep into her palm with her last words.

“Can you hear me now? So proud to call yourself a turian, looking down your nose at everyone around you, yet you bare no mark, no one will claim you,” she grits between bared teeth.

“I am coming for you. You have stolen from me and only your life is fit payment,” her voice is low and menacing.

The spectre laughs, “You dare to speak to me as if you are turian. Let alone the mate of one. You have no right!”   
All eyes shift to the turian councilor, who clears his throat before he answers, “The meritocracy recognizes her as Nihlus Kryik’s first and only mate and by our laws she has the right.”

Saren’s mandibles are tight against his face, until the council delivers their decision about revoking his status.

“Catch me if you can, human,” absently he rotates his left shoulder, stopping when Adan presents him with a feral grin.

“You’ll never see me coming. I’ll take you from behind just like you took Nihlus.” She turns away and then back to the holo, “You should see someone about the slug in your shoulder.”


	17. Recognition

Spinning on her heel, she shoves Udina out of her way and only Anderson’s hand on the man’s back keeps him from sprawling to the floor.

She doesn’t hears the council tell the crew to return with more evidence. 

On the stairs below, two turians argue, one ordering the other to drop his investigation while he pleads for more time.

Thrice denied he takes off in anger and Executor Pallin turns to find himself looking into the face of vengeance. 

“Céile Kryik, I apologize for your loss. I’ve been told that I cannot assist you but I was never told that I couldn’t put you on the trail of someone who can; Garrus Vakarian. Find Harkin and you will find him,” his eyes move over Adan’s face.

DeClan nods his thanks to the turian before jogging to catch up with Adan, he places a cautious hand on her shoulder.

“What’s was that between you and Saren?” He asks once the lift opens and they all step onto it.

“Dean dioghaltas air,” she breathes rolling her shoulders until her neck pops, “an old turian custom. Because there has been one war after another no one follows it anymore. Saren stole Nihlus’s life, shooting him in the back of the head. That wasn’t a fair fight, it wasn’t a fight at all.”

It’s Kaidan who lays a hand on her shoulder this time, his eyes scanning the elevator that pulses like the Normandy’s drive core.

She gives herself a shake before continuing, “I’m human, I couldn’t go after him on my own. I needed permission and now I have it.”

Williams quips in, “You shot him? With a bullet? Where in the hell did you get a bullet?”

The glare she receives causes her to throw her hands up, “I’m not trying to step in anything here. I’m just asking where the hell you got a bullet?”

“It’s my calling card. It’s why Torfan became such a big issue. The Batarians felt that because each slaver had a single round to the head, I’d planned to execute them all along.” 

DeClan is worried, her voice is cold and he prays, hopes that Saren falls off a short ledge into the abyss before she finds him.

“Well, Skipper when you think about it, the only weapons that fire rounds are in museums or collector items,” Williams offers.

Adan simply nods and steps off the lift headed toward the stairs where she’d kissed DeClan the second time after three years of separation.

Adan knows that Harkin haunts Chora Den’s, her Intel has always been good except they failed to mention the assassins that are waiting for them. 

The primal scream that echoes through the space halts all weapons fire and each assassin drops where they cower behind cover.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Kaidan mutters, “I can’t believe you just did that.”

The biotic rambles until Adan puts a finger to his lips, “I’ll teach you how to do it later. Be impressed, star struck later. Let’s go.”

She shoos the crew away before she approaches Harkin, the C-Sec officer’s lips spread in a lurid smile.

“You’re finally going to keep your promise?” His grin grows lewd as he cups her ass to drag her onto his lap, his alcoholic breath rank in her face.

“No Harkin,” she smiles down into his face, a hand caressing his neck, the other going for the knife in her boot, “I need Intel. Something only you know.”

His eyes are on her breast, hands moving up the sides of her waist, “You know you still owe me for the last time. So what do you need now?”

“I need you to tell me where Vakarian is,” she dead pans the officer.

The male bucks in an attempt to toss her off him, “I should have known you were one of those!”

His abrupt movements cease when the thin edge of her blade bites into his neck, his eyes narrow, “So, you’re going to kill me right here?”

She nuzzles her unpainted cheek against his to whisper, “This knife will slice you so thin, no will know until you start to stink. I need to know where Vakarian is. Tell me.”

If Harkin is full of anything, it is false bravado.

He lifts his glass taking a swallow that starts a thin line of blood tracing down his throat.

“Try the med clinic, lower ward, that French doctor has a crush on him,” he spits at her.

“Thank you Harkin,” she slides off his lap, beckoning to DeClan and the others on her way to the door.

“Lower ward, medical clinic,” she reports once they are in range.

The scene at the clinic is straight out of an eighties hostage scene; one thug using the doctor as a shield while pointing a gun to her head, the turian is hunched behind the half wall and two other idiots are hiding behind crates.

She and Kaidan even the game by overloading the crates, exploding a container that kills the two men immediately, Vakarian places a perfect head shot eliminating the doctor’s captor.

The turian takes in the trio that he can see then rocks back on a leg when Adan approaches.

“Palaven,” she says taking in his colony marks, “head shot, you took him down clean.”

His talons hover over the incomplete colony marks that decorate her face, “Dean dioghaltas air?”

His beryl eyes meet colorless orbs rimmed in brilliant blue, as she answers “A dean dioghaltas air.”

His mandibles quirk in a smile, harmonics rich with his approval, “A human that observes our culture and has learned to speak our language. A worthy mate indeed. Garrus Vakarian.”

DeClan shakes the male’s extended hand, his eyes flicking between pair.

Shaking off whatever is there he tunes in to the scene between the physician and Adan.

The doctor puts them on the trail of a Quarian, it also opens DeClan’s eyes to something he’s been blind to.

He doesn’t really know the woman he loves - who she is, her past or what she’s capable of in her current emotional state and he’s worried.

Kaidan’s hand worries at his neck and forehead and Williams despite her hard exterior looks shell shocked, so he sends them back to the Normandy with orders to check in with Chakwas.

Adan takes advantage of Dr. Michel’s generous offer loading up on as much Medi-gel as she can hold.

Leaving DeClan to watch the uncomfortable interaction between the turian and the physician.

It seems that Harkin was telling the truth and Vakarian is doing everything in his power to remain polite in the face of the physician’s unwanted flirtation.

It is Adan who rescues him, “Dr. Michèl, thank you. DeClan, Vakarian let’s go.”

With nothing to say they both follow her out of the clinic, each shaking themselves for entirely different reasons.

“Who is Fist and how do we get to him?” She asks no one in particular as they walk three abreast, stopping at a window that displays the Citadel’s arms and the nebula beyond.

“We should stop by C-Sec, there’s a bounty hunter looking for Fist also,” Vakarian offers.

In silent agreement they heed his advice.

Once they are on the lift and it’s in motion does Vakarian speak.

“The councilor consented to this,” his gaze maps the marks that decorate Adan’s profile.

“I gave him no cause not to. I followed...” she pauses, turning away from both men, “I had only promised myself, he finished it.”

The lights in the shaft turn her face into a death mask, “Saren murdered him in cold blood without giving him a chance to defend himself. Mate or not, I will avenge him as I would anyone killed in cold blood,” even Garrus can't ignore the pain in her words.


	18. Can I Keep Her?

They step off the lift to see a Krogan surrounded by several officers, his booming laughter fills the station when the officers scurry away at their approach.

“Wrex?” DeClan laughs, extending a hand toward the Krogan.

“DeClan Aiden Shepard, the last time I saw you, you were flat on back whining like a Quarian,” the huge krogan pulls DeClan into him, clasping his forearm.

He groans when the Krogan releases him, “You lied about the ryncol, told me it was harmless.”

The Krogan smiles revealing broad, flat purple teeth, “I also told you the fight wasn’t rigged. What can I do for you?”

“Fist,” Adan bites off, placing herself under the lumbering giant’s scrutiny, he crowds her backing her up against the wall.

“You smell good. What business do you have with Fist?” He laughs, his dark burgundy eyes moving over her entire frame.

“He has information that I need and as happy as you are to see me, I’m not interested right now. I have some killing to do,” she smiles.

“Not right now,” he backs up, his eyes going to DeClan, “Not right now, she says. Can I hold her to it, my friend?”

DeClan’s is unable to meet Adan’s gaze, “I’d give it some time Wrex. Someone’s hurt her and another ...” shaking his head, he adds, “she’s dangerous now.”  
Wrex takes a more careful look at the woman behind him then Vakarian, “A revenge contract. It’s been decades or more since and only by a turian...”

Vakarian nods, “Threw me as well, and yes it lost favor for a number of reasons.”

“Shepard I’m with you until this thing is done. A revenge contract carried out by a female, a human female no less, this is going to be good. Fist’s at Chora’s Den,” Wrex gives a nod toward DeClan.

With no other words between them the quartet make their way to Chora’s Den.

DeClan needs to have a word with Adan soon.

“Vakarian,” she starts and is cut off by the turian.

“Garrus,” he says, “if I’m going to be watching your six, I’d prefer Garrus.”

“Daron Adan Shepard,” she offers, “DeClan Aiden Shepard,” she nods behind him.

“DeClan or Shepard will do fine, call her what you wish at your own peril.” He laughs to break the tension.

“Now that we’ve done the round robin, can we get on with the killing?” Wrex growls.

The doors to the club are blown apart before Adan disappears within her cloak and those in her reach drop, clutching their chests with their mouths open in silent screams.

“I like her. I like her a lot. Can I keep her?” Wrex laughs over his booming shotgun.

The three men move in tandem behind Adan and the destruction she leaves in her wake, cleaning up those that fail to die outright.

The two males guarding the entrance drop their weapons and skate around her to make their escape.

When the office opens, she’s tossed back into the trio. Her armor smoking from the hit she’s taken to the shoulder.

“If you were an inch taller, you’d be fucking dead,” DeClan yells, grabbing the collar of her armor, shaking her.

“But I’m not dead! Get the fuck off of me!” She grabs his thumbs, twisting them.

He ignores the pain, dragging her to her feet.

He holds her hard stare, eyes hard glints of steel, as she rails, “Where were you when Saren killed him? Where was your fucking concern when you were digging my heart out with spoon telling me I wouldn’t be able to have children?”

She pulls out of his grasp, her armor singed and smoking. 

“DeClan leave me the hell alone,” she grits out; tears of anger trail into hair, washing away the deep color at her temples.

It is Garrus who steps between them, “You can’t do this here. Let her work it out on her own. We’ll protect her, we’ll get her through this.”

When she meets Garrus’s gaze, her face is a death mask, “I don’t need any of you to protect me. ALL I need is for you to do your damn jobs, nothing more and nothing less. That includes you as well, Commander Shepard.”

Between her, DeClan and Garrus, the turrets are over loaded and Fist barely survives the torture that Adan puts him through before giving up what he knows.

“Wrex, take out the damn trash,” she orders cleaning the blood from her hands by dragging them through the man’s hair.

“Adan, you can’t kill him,” Garrus says softly.

“Why not Garrus?” She pins him with a bright blue gaze that narrows his own.

“He sent a girl to her death for nothing more than a few credits. Why does he not deserve to die? Besides, I’m not killing him, Wrex is.”

The sound of twin barrels going off steals their hearing as they quit Chora’s Den in search of Quarian.

As they reach their destination, Garrus attempts to reach Adan on another level, nodding at the sniper rifle as her back, “Great weapon, how come you don’t use it?”

A compartment at her left thigh opens, within seconds she’s assembled a sniper rifle that Garrus has only admired in the museum; here, on the Citadel.

From the ammo belt at her right bicep she retrieves a strange projectile, places a kiss on the tip then slides it into the open bolt, working the lever she lowers her eye to the scope.

His visor provides feed back.

Her heart and respirations slow, shoulders drop on a deep inhale, with a whisper of an exhaled breath, she squeezes the trigger, working the bolt, seating another round to scan and take down the next target before their enemies understand that they're under attack.

Smiling he joins her, taking out several more Eclipse mercs before DeClan, Wrex and the Quarian join in.

Once the fire fight is over, Adan polices the cartridges that lay around her, then joins the men speaking to the Quarian.

She hands Vakarian one of the rounds, watching as he fingers the words engraved into the casing, “To the Sea” 

She steps away, head bowed over clasped hands yet his hearing picks up her quiet prayer and sobs.

The metallic smell of the colony paint that decorates her face fills his nose when she rejoins them and he nods tucking the round into his own ammo pouch.


	19. Incongruent

Turning, DeClan sees the glimpse of a smile curve Adan’s lips and though he is grateful that there is someone who can reach her, there’s a niggle of worry in his heart.

Wrex nudges him when the Quarian falls into step with Adan and Vakarian.

“You’ve had her,” he says as quietly.

“For years,” he runs a hand over his face, “she’s always been there waiting but... I’ve lost her Wrex.”

“You’re the one who told me sorry and a kiss could steal the anger from any woman,” the Krogan laughs.

“Anger and pain are two different animals. A kiss and sorry won’t fix this,” he sighs as they take the stairs out of the ward two at a time, squinting into the bright light of the Presidium.

Adan, Garrus and Tali, as he’s been told, are dealing with a turian and a hanar. 

Adan pays whatever fine the hanar owes and sends the C-Sec officer on his way before laying a strong admonishment on the jellyfish.

They crowd Udina’s office, it’s strange but DeClan; in particular, notices that Adan hides herself behind the group.

As always the man makes everything a challenge, even with the audio evidence presented by Tali. 

Cold fury fills the room when Adan speaks,“Donnel, unless you want to make your partial a full set, arrange the damn meeting.”

The ambassador turns from DeClan scanning the room and rushing behind his desk when she steps forward.

“You are not supposed to be in my office or within 1000 feet of me. What in the hell are you doing here?” He rages.

Never has DeClan seen a woman’s hips move with such deadly intent, Adan leans over the man’s desk until they are face to face, her voice a husky whisper.

“Unless you want Alliance command and the Parliament to receive a package, you will do this. You will do this or so help me, I’ll take you down so fucking fast, you won’t realize what’s happened until your ass stops skipping across the pavement.”

His eyes widens, beads of sweat roll down his temples and his breath quickens, “I’ll get a meeting scheduled for the morning, does that suffice?”

With a quick nod, she steps away from his desk, setting her shoulders then heading for the door.

“Daron,” the ambassador’s voice halts her retreat, “I’m sorry. I should have said it years ago but I am sorry.”

It is Garrus who catches the tears that slither down her cheeks, a hand goes to her shoulder as she sighs.

“You’re three years too late. Three years, two surgeries, a year of counseling and more tears than I can count too late, Udina.” 

Four pair of eyes go to the ambassador, each can only guess at what just passed between them and why he’d doesn’t want anyone to know. 

He drops his gaze, the door hisses at the group’s departure.

DeClan dismisses them with the promise of contacting them when they are needed for the meeting.  
Adan is no where to be found.

He checks the bar across from the embassy offices, the cafe that they’d dined at what seems like months ago and all the other places he knew she haunted.

The Citadel has fallen into the night cycle when he finally gives up, returning to her apartment.

She watches him from her cloaked position on the bench near the model of the mass relay.

The statue hums-sings to her, pulling her eyes closed, drawing her into the nightmare the beacon had crammed into her brain.

Her mind attempts to sort through the images, the strange language, to give some meaning to it but it fails. 

She has no context, nothing to compare it to, so she listens to the siren song of the statue.

“You’ve been here for nearly three hours,” a voice pulls her back to the present.

“Garrus,” she breathes as her eyes open, heart pounding in time with the humming of the statue.

He taps the visor, “You let him search for you. He’s frantic, scared and worried about you. Have you told him what Dean dioghaltas air entails? Have you told him why we no longer pursue it?”

She drops her cloak, turning to face him.

“Your eyes were blue before,” his mandibles flutter into a smile while he guides her toward a bench further from the statue.

“Maybe and no I have not told him. Right now he doesn’t deserve that level of trust from me.” She brushes her hair from her face.

“His?” Garrus fingers a long strand that blows across his face carrying the scent of blood.

“Ours,” she tucks the strand behind her ear, “a ritual from my father’s ancestors.”

“He loves you, you should forgive him,” Garrus offers, running a hand over the back of his head.

“He doesn’t,” her hand dashes away the tears that threaten to fall, “he can’t see me, he doesn’t know me. He married someone else once.”

“This will eat you up. Saren could kill you. Do you think Nihlus would want this for you?” His gentle probing is met with a hard stare, once silver irises are now glacial blue.

“Nihlus would want to be here with me and since he’s dead what he wants is irrelevant, Garrus Vakarian,” she rises to go but strong, sharp talons prick her wrist, her anger becomes something else, something she thought only Nihlus could provoke.

Garrus is stunned then to his surprise aroused when hot fingers wrap around the length of his fringe, she straddles him, thighs warm at his waist and with strength he doubted humans had, she wrenches his head back her lips going to his.

Her strange, wet tongue invades his mouth, coaxing his to hers. 

He’s tentative, curious then lost when she draws it into her own, stroking her own tongue against his, before ending the kiss.

He follows her retreating mouth, arm tightening at her waist.

When she returns her lips are softer and her tongue traces along sharp teeth.

Her fingers knead at the sensitive skin beneath his fringe, trailing down the back of his skull to flutter along his mandibles.

With smaller kisses she draws away, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... I need to go.”

He rises setting her on her feet, “Why? I’m not sorry but you have something you need to do and if you no longer trust him as you did, you should tell him, so he can let you go.”

A hand goes to his brow, “Now that we’ve given all the Presidium a show, I guess we should leave.”

She smiles, then enjoys the first laugh she’s had in days, “If turians could blush, you’d be a blueberry but we’re cloaked Garrus.”

He clears his throat, “Well then, Good night Shepard, I’ll see you in the morning.”

She watches his retreating back, a hand over her mouth to cover the smile that is at odds with the face paint.


	20. Between us.

DeClan is waiting inside the door when she steps into the apartment, “Three nights Adan. Three nights without a word and when you return you’ve become the thing everyone expects to see when your name is uttered.”

Skating around him she retreats to her bedroom, removing her armor, the tight under armor and pinning her hair high on her head strides naked into the bathroom.

She stands beneath the light spray, Nihlus’ colony markings stare back at her through the glass but it is Garrus Vakarian on her tongue.

Opening her mouth she lets the water rinse away the taste of him, she cleans her skin and on second though releases her hair, washing it as well.

Stepping from the steam filled enclosure she runs into DeClan, he’s naked and warm beneath her hands.

Her fingers trace over the scars he’d gain during Akuze, her thumbs press into the space between his pec.

He gasps when she trails the jagged edge of her nails along the tight, thin skin there.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Udina?” His voice is thick with emotions, she takes in his face, hot tears dot her lips.

“There was nothing to tell. Not our father, not Anderson, not...there was no one. I wasn’t truly aware of what happened until I woke up in the hospital one month and two reconstructive surgeries later,” she answers.

He tips her face to his, “I’m sorry Daron. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m ... I’ve never meant to hurt you. Forgive me,” his mouth is salty against hers.

Hands long familiar with her body work their magic, it takes little to gather her into his arms and carry her to bed.

He requests forgiveness with fingers, lips and tongue until she is crying out beneath him.

He believes he’s gained it; her forgiveness, when she pulls him up her body and guides him into her.

She surprises him.

She says the thing that was said the night before his marriage, “This is all that is between us, DeClan. This thing that you do to me. Nothing more,” he steals her words by lifting her thigh and hilting himself deeper.

He looms over her, “This is NOT all that is between us.”

A hard hand in her hair opens her eyes, “I can do this with any woman. I have done this and you know who’s face I see when I am over them and they over me?”

She shakes her head against the pillows, closing her eyes tight to hide from him, “This is all that is between us, DeClan.”

“Open your damn eyes Daron,” his hips still, cock throbbing within her. “Do you know who I smell, who’s hair I wish was covering me? Who I wish was gasping, moaning and crying out to me, for me?”

His hand snakes beneath her ass, cupping her tighter to him while he finishes her with a snap of his hips.

She trembles beneath him, her sheath milks him dragging a groan from deep within his chest.

“I wished it was you. When Shelby stood before me, my eyes were on you. Wanting it to be you pledging yourself to me. When she looked at me with tears in her eyes telling me she was pregnant. I wanted it to be you. When you gave your pledge to that damn turian with your biotics tripping over his skin, I wanted it to be me.”

He resumes his thrust, watching the tell tale flush creep up her skin as her eyes widen, jagged nails rip into the bed clothes and her teeth shred her lower lip before she gasps, “This is all that is between us DeClan, nothing else.”

He growls above her, “If this, fucking, is all that is left between us. If this is all you will give me, then I will take it. You will never be rid of me Daron, do you understand?”

She shakes her head, something in her has broken.

The room bleeds to a deep indigo when hiccuping sobs and whimpers from broken lips fill the room.

“Say it, Daron. You’ll never be rid of me.” He delivers bruising thrusts that quicken her body to him.

“I’ll never be rid of you,” she screams, tears stand in her eyes and on a broken cry she repeats herself.

He’s unprepared for the aftermath.

Lightening trips over her skin to his, burning him. 

The odor of burnt eezo fills the room as she cries out, going limp beneath him.

He fills her, not realizing that he’s given and stolen something from her at the same time.

He falls to sleep listening to his own voice echoing in the dark.


	21. Èignich

In the morning, Adan is silent but it’s nothing unusual to him, she is usually this way before an important meeting and he leaves her to her thoughts.

It is Garrus who notices that the fire that burned in her eyes yesterday is guttered, her lips torn and she stinks of another’s spend.

He pulls DeClan to the side, “She loses her mate and you decide that this is the time to use her?”

There is no name for the look that the Commander levels at him, “She is mines, has always been mines.”

He throws his hands up, “Why in the fuck am I explaining myself to you, it’s none of your business. Vakarian!”

Garrus grabs DeClan by his neck forcing him to face Adan, “Look at her Shepard! That’s not the woman that waded into our enemies yesterday. That’s not even a shell of the woman that was with us yesterday.”

It is Wrex who steps between them, his eyes widening as Garrus yells, “She is with child and you used her. You’ve stolen from her just as Saren has!”

All eyes turn to Adan, and with no warning she is gone.

Anderson and Udina mount the stairs, turning as the lift blazes eezo blue and descends faster than they’ve ever seen it move.

Wrex shakes his huge head at his friend, “You didn’t know?”

DeClan’s gaze is on the empty shaft, a hand goes to his skull, the slow shake of his gives everyone his answer.

“Èignich is the lowest...” Garrus starts but is cut off by Wrex.

“It is done. He can’t take it back turian and only she can forgive him,” DeClan turns hope shines in his eyes then dies as Wrex finishes, “or not.”

“You both knew and said nothing?” He questions the two, until Tali chimes in as well.

“We all knew. There are only a few things that we quarians know of that turn a woman that fierce and pregnancy is one of them, besides I scanned her. The face paint threw me on our first meeting. She is only ...” The young woman twists her fingers together.

Garrus growls, the entire range of his harmonics engaged, “It is not for us to tell, let it be. She’s been through enough, now shall we join her two Èigneachadh and see what the council has to say.”

He takes the stairs two at time, Tali behind him leaving DeClan with Wrex at his side.

“A kiss and sorry, DeClan. That was all it was supposed to be, now was not the time to force your will on her. We will need her,” Wrex rumbles quietly in his deep baritone.


	22. Aftermath

With a nudge he goads his friend up the stairs.

Lost in his own thoughts, he hears nothing and it is Anderson clasping his hand in congratulations that brings his attention back to present.

“You’ve done it son, You and Adan are Spectres, and Saren’s status has been revoked. You have the council’s permission to go after him son,” Anderson says proudly.

“I don’t have a ship,” he stammers, his eyes searching for Adan, watching as Kaidan’s eyes slide away from his.

“Don’t worry about that Shepard, I’ll take care of it. Go on now, I’ll be in touch,” Anderson beams as he walks away.

Garrus shakes his head then retreats, his eyes flashing in anger before he stumbles, “Daron?”

His hands flesh out her shoulders, her neck then up to her face cupping her cheeks, a croon escapes him, “Daron!”

The cloak stutters then falls, her cheeks are hollowed out, deep wells of darkness encompass her eyes, she’s paler than her coloring allows and smells of burnt eezo.

It is Kaidan who catches her, “She’s burnt out. When is the last time she’s eaten?”

His gaze lands on DeClan, “You of all people knows that she needs to eat. You should have sent her to Chakwas after Chora’s Den. Damn it, Shepard are you trying to kill her?”

He hoist her higher in his arms, “I’m taking her back to the Normandy.”

Even Anderson can’t argue with the young biotic, when he shifts her again, Garrus takes her from him.

“We can’t chance you dropping her,” he offers then follows Kaidan down the stairs and onto the lift.

“Fix this DeClan or the Alliance will pull you two apart. Again,” Wrex offers.


	23. Schooled

He’s only able to stay away forty eight hours before he’s drawn back to the Normandy and Adan.

She is still down, the hollows at her cheeks and the shadows beneath her eyes are gone but the vibrancy he loves is still missing.

A bag above the bed feeds a phosphorescent lime fluid into the large vein at her elbow and Vakarian is in a chair at her side, asleep.

“It’s a good thing Kaidan and Vakarian brought her in. A few more hours, they would have died,” Chakwas says behind him.

“Do you know how damaging it is for the men in your life to pass you around like a toy, Commander,” her voice is quiet.

“I took care of her after Udina. He’d shattered her face, tore her in ways that even I couldn’t understand and he did it because she dared to say no to him.”

He follows her into the empty space at the rear of the med bay, her voice drawing him, “She didn’t report him. They’d have held her up in psychiatric evals until she truly was crazy.”

Karin lights a cigarette, tapping it into an ashtray that vents the smoke away.

“You came back into her life when she needed you the most but when she wasn’t available to you, you fell in love with another, got her pregnant and married her.”

From a drawer the doctor pulls a bottle and two glasses pouring several fingers of glacial blue liquid into each of them.

“You used Daron again, the night before your wedding. She moves on, finds love and you pop back into her life ruining that for her. It was you who had her transferred,” she states.

He opens his mouth to refute her statement but she shakes her head while taking a sip from her glass.

“Don’t lie, I saw the order when I did her fitrep. You know she was doing just fine until this posting? I, at least thought, the two of you were doing fine here. You with Draven and she with Nihlus. Well, at least until she fell in love with Nihlus, right?” The older woman cocks a hip against the desk, waiting for his response.

“Dr. Chakwas I don’t really think it’s...” he begins watching her brows go up.

“Commander, it is my business when a member of this crew is carried into my med bay wasting away on a burn out and losing the rest of her fluids because she is crying uncontrollably while whispering, ‘Say it Daron-never be rid of me.’ in the arms of a turian, naming you rapist in his own tongue.”

His shoulders go back, “I did not rape her, Karin.”

She shrugs, “In turian culture you have. She has lost her mate. There is a preset time period where she is allowed to mourn. Right now she's considered emotionally compromised.”

Tossing her hair back, she takes another drag of the cigarette, “She’s considered all the more fragile because she’s pregnant by her deceased mate. Any male engaging in sexual activity with her would be considered a rapist.”

The cigarette is extinguished with a forceful jab, soft blue eyes hardening, “You took advantage of her doubly so considering her emotional status and the fact that she was on a burn out. Her implant was nearly fused into her skull. You just shouldn’t have Declan.”

She gives him no leave to answer when she departs the room.


	24. Knight Takes King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DeClan and Garrus come to terms...

In their absence, Garrus has turned Adan onto her stomach and plaited her hair into a neat braid that hangs off the edge of the table.

Chakwas pulls on gloves and begins scraping away the blackened and scorched flesh at the base of Adan’s skull.

Garrus takes a trembling hand into his own, whispering softly into her ear, earning a small shrug from Adan and a warning glance from Chakwas.

“I will... I want to stay with her,” DeClan says to no one in particular and is ignored.

“Vakarian, leave I want to stay with her!” He demands, drawing Garrus’ gaze.

The blade stills and Karin shakes her head, voice sharp, “Take it out of my med bay and away from her.”

“This won’t take long,” Garrus whispers to Adan, squeezing her hand lightly.

He dodges the fist thrown by DeClan before the door closes behind him.

“Trust me, this isn’t what you want to do, Shepard,” Garrus replies, moving out into the mess.

“Adan is mine. The mistakes I make with her are mine. We don’t need you, Chakwas or anyone else standing between us,” DeClan growls closing in on the turian.

“She’s a person, not a possession and if you understood that, she wouldn’t be on that table.” Garrus replies side stepping another punch.

“She can take it. She survived Torfan, Udina. She’ll survive Nihlus, Saren and anything else that’s thrown at her,” his punch connects barely rocking Garrus’ head but earns him a gash along the knuckles from the male’s exposed teeth.

“I’m not your enemy, Shepard and you don’t want to make me one,” Garrus’s voice is a low whisper.

The turian’s next move surprises everyone that has gathered on the mess, with a speed none expected he closes with Shepard.

DeClan is aware that Garrus is inside the reach, he counters by sweeping the Turian’s extended foot instead of him going down alone, DeClan is carried with him and over Garrus’ head.

His skull and back hit the unforgiving metal with a resounding ring, his vision blurs then darken as his lungs fight for oxygen.

Garrus looms above him, the hand at his throat lifts him until his feet dangle in the open space between his toes and the floor.

“You’re right. She survives but at what cost. Does her sanity cover the cost of your possession? Does losing who she is cover it?” He shakes DeClan like a rag doll causing the man to cough.

“Will her hunting you, adding you to her Dean dioghaltas air cover the cost? You do not want me as an enemy as I will always take her side in this!” Garrus growls.

Despite the lack of air, the man still fights.

One hand plucks at the talons that threaten to puncture his throat and the other pounds at Garrus’s shoulder becoming progressively weaker with each passing second.

“Idiot,” is the last growling word DeClan hears as he’s tossed away, sliding then coming to an abrupt halt when his back hits his and Adan’s lockers.


	25. How we saw it...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus explains his position to Adan.

Garrus walks in to find Adan sitting on the table, her naked back to him, tattooed with the markings of her dead mate.

Chakwas shields her from view when she inserts the new amp, “Please try not to burn this one out, Commander.”

“He’s waiting for you at the usual place, go and that’s an order,” Chakwas presses her lips into Adan’s hair, arms tighten around her in a gentle hug.

When Adan nods, she lets go, helping her into a sports bra and tee before quitting the room, leaving Adan alone with Garrus.

“I don’t need anyone to defend my honor, Vakarian,” Adan supplies in a voice gritty and raw from exhaustion.

“Never assumed that you needed it,” he retorts as she turns buttoning up her over shirt.

“Then why are you?” Her brow furrows with the question, eyes a gilded green that search his face.

“Walk with me and I’ll tell you,” he gestures with his chin.

“I need...I can’t take you where I’m going,” she hedges.

“I’ll wait, Daron. Just...walk with me.” His harmonics soften and his gaze holds hers until she closes the distance and they quit the med bay and Normandy together.

He waits until they are on the lift before he speaks.

“Before Torfan and Akuze, no one knew...well at least on the Citadel of Commander Shepard. Then the stories broke and one is made a hero, no one is surprised. He’s everything that one would expect of the Alliance.. Tall, handsome, intelligent, a widower who lost his wife and unborn child on Mindoir yet he survives a Thresher maw attack with nothing but a few burns and his sanity intact.”

He watches her nod, unaware that before, she’d have had a huge grin of pride on her face.

“The Alliance did everything they could to keep the Torfan incident out of the paper, but Westerlund news did their job. A week after your inquiry, a picture shows up in the news vids that surprises the hell out of everyone. Do you know what it was?”

“I’m not a big fan of the new feeds or Al Jilani,” she runs a hand over her hair.

“The entire galactic community or at least those who got the feed that day, learned that The Butcher was a woman,” he whispers placing a hand on her shoulder.

“The picture they chose wasn’t of you in uniform or armor but some Alliance function; alone at a table, with what seems to be the entire world on your shoulders.”

Reaching into his cowl, he retrieves a much folded piece of paper, smoothing it once then twice he hands it to her.

The picture was taken a decade ago.

She’d chosen the jade dress specifically for the occasion; a commendation ceremony, because it was her father’s favorite color. 

She’d learned that day that Hannah Siobhan Shepard was her mother, not Karin Chakwas and it had stung that the woman walked past her as if she didn’t recognize her.

But when the woman refused to even meet her no matter how her father insisted, she’d been devastated; she’d thought she was well hidden but the picture … well she’d been wrong.

“The printers in C-Sec stayed hot for days. Your picture was printed and hung in officers’ lockers. The word was that every male,” his mandibles flutter; “and some females felt the need to find you, to take you home and protect you from the galaxy as a whole.”

He tucks a finger under her chin forcing her to meet his gaze, “I know what you are capable of only because I’ve seen it first hand, but I still see what my fellow officers in C-Sec, Nihlus and DeClan sees in you. Your mate cherished it. I want to salvage and protect it. DeClan takes advantage of it. None of that matters, what matter is what do you want to do Daron?”

She turns away as the lift stops in C-Sec, wiping a hand down her face, her voice ices his blood.

“Kill them both, one I have license to do so, the other I cannot and if I can’t kill him then I will kill this thing between us.”

He doesn’t ask.

He doesn’t want to know so they walk in companionable silence to her destination; Huerta Memorial.

“I can’t take you...I don’t want you to know where I’m going. Can you wait for me here?” She asks when they stand outside the building.

“I’ve got your six,” he replies, watching her back up into the building, then disappear behind the lift’s closing doors.


	26. The Tie That Binds

The office is dark but she knows he is here, “You left without saying good bye.”

“My apologies, I allowed my emotions to over come my judgement,” he’s sitting at his desk, fingers temples beneath his chin, “Was it not expected when you return to me carrying another man’s child?”

Shrugging, she steps further into the arid heat of the room, “Well, now I’m pregnant by both of them, Tannor and I didn’t... Nihlus yes, DeClan no. Help me. Help me cut this tie between us.”

His gaze skips over her, “You would do this to be rid of him?”

“Why should I...” she starts, then shakes her head, feet carrying her to the window, “Yes.”

Laying a hand against the glass, she sighs before resting her head against it.

The cool glass calms the tempest that her thoughts have become.

“They stole something from me, used me as if,” she catches the sob before it passes her lips.

“A tool, an object to fulfill their needs. You will do such a thing; to free yourself, to hurt him?” He moves into her personal space, inhaling her scent when she relaxes back into the warmth of his body. “You used me once, twice, should I resort to such measures Siha?” 

Her hair tickles against his lips when she shakes her head, “Where’s that perfect memory now?We used each other. You to forget her and I, Torfan. Then we used one another because we enjoyed it then we fell in love. It was you who set me aside even as I begged you not to.”

“In all the years what has he done,” he starts but is tossed away, his own biotics and training save him from being slammed into the far wall.

“If this, fucking, is all that is left between us. If this is all you will give me, then I will take it. You will never be rid of me Daron, do you understand? Say it, Daron! You’ll never be rid of me,” her brother’s voice leaves her lips.

He’s never understood how she does this thing, mimicking voices so perfectly it’s as if that person is in the room with them, he shudders when she speaks again.

“No one says no to me! You sashay into my office dressed like ...that,” he watches her hand rise then fall, before she continues.

“Tease me on Omega and then dare to tell me no! I don’t ask permission. You will learn like everyone else that I take what I want. Do you understand? I take what I want and right now it is you that I want!”

The tears that limn her face are as blue as the biotics that surround her.

“Help me. If you love me. If you’ve ever loved me you will help me or I will do it on my own and the consequences be damned,” she bows her head, her voice ringing with finality.

“In Amonkira’s name it will be done. In Arashu’s name it will be done with or without you. I will answer for it beyond the sea but it will be done Tannor,” she finishes with her breath fogging the window.

He turns his back on the wreck that she has become, heart breaking for her.

“Then it is as I have promised, they have broken you. The woman I love is gone, shattered and all that is left is Siha,” he whispers his biotics an answering flare to hers.

Her voice is thick with tears, “It is she that helped me survive. She who kept me from the blade or rope when I thought I had nothing left. She who guided me to you when Torfan took me to the abyss.”

The admission shocks him, when he approaches on silent steps, the flare around her gutters and dies.

Tucking her into his body, his own die and with strong fingers he smooths her hair and wipes away her tears, “Then I cannot gainsay you, can I? I will help you in this Daron but know I didn’t push you away to hurt you. I pushed you away to save him.”

Her eyes are the strange silver that drew him so long ago when she gazes up at him, “I don’t understand.”

“He calls to you,” is his answer.

His double green eyes burn her with their intensity, “I knew this moment would pass and had I claimed you as you wished nothing would stop me from taking his life. As your honor demands Saren’s life, mine would have demanded his.

Her hands are busy at the open collar of his jacket, sliding it from his shoulders as her mouth finds his.

His instincts scream for him to pull away, instead he gives in to the siren song she builds in him.

Fingers at the clasps and zipper at his chest bring him to his senses and he stops her. 

“As much as I want this and you, we should not,” he murmurs against her lips.

She’s been trained well, there is no warning, he finds himself pinned against the far wall, her lips and tongue dancing over the sensitive skin of his neck.

When he slams her into the wall; he’d expected her submission instead the room blooms with the scent of her arousal.

Pinned with her wrists tight in his grasp, she admits, “I need this, with you. You are the first person that I needed to be with, who chose to be with me with nothing between us. You taught me once, teach me again.”

There with the plea dying on her lips he teaches her again that she is to be treasured.

Her body is a gift to those she bequeaths it to, not a tool to be used against her.

Their first kisses are bitter with the pain, anger and betrayal, so he does something he’s never considered.

He submits to her, allowing her to do as she wish, take as she wishes and when she is herself again; when her kisses have sweetened in her passion, he rises over her giving in to her cries, questing hands and surging hips.

Her submission happens as their biotics swirl around them, within the quiet eye of the storm they’ve created. 

He steals her echoing cries with his lips until she stills in his arms, their breath harsh in the quiet of the room.

Pressing drugging kisses to her eyelids, temples then her mouth; he smiles, “I’ve missed you, Siha.”

“And I you, but I still need to do this,” she whispers into his chest, as the first of the hallucinations begin, painting the room in multi color layers.

“I’ve never effected you so quickly.” he muses, rising, he dresses her then himself.

“And this thing, this will cut the tie between you? How?” He asks with her cradled in his arms, moving swiftly through the building toward the medical ward.

“It just will,” she giggles watching an Elcor; who has become a rhino in a tutu, cross their path.


	27. Bitter Dregs.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She finds a way to hurt him.

The physician sedates her the instant she’s on the table.

“How will you determine the difference?” Tannor asks the salarian, who readies a large bore needle.

“Have done this before, more times then I can count. Never made a mistake,” the physician huffs in aggravation.

He looks away, head bowed in silent prayer for the woman he loves.

“Done, should remain here. Chakwas promised to take over care. Return to Normandy for observation. Waking her now, also administering antidote for hallucinogen,” the salarian sniffs.

When she awakens, Tannor is there holding her hand.

“It is done, Siha. If you need me I am here,” in a blink, she’s alone in the alcove.

The sun has started to set yet Garrus is still waiting for her, standing as she approaches.

“You look better. Tell me you are feeling better?” His mandibles flutters, she smells of hospital antiseptic and something he can’t place.

“I am. So we’re waiting on a ship before we can go after Saren?” She asks releasing her hair from the ruined braid to cover the healing port at the base of her skull.

He nods, “Are you sure you want to be on the same ship with....”

“Garrus, he’s hurt me, almost broke me but I’m not running away,” she runs a hand through her hair, scratching at her scalp, “I don’t run away and if it goes to shit, Nihlus has-had a ship. I can chase Saren on my own with the same resources and I’d only have to house and feed myself.”

“And me, maybe Tali and Alenko too,” he laughs as they head through C-Sec and the lift.

Her lips tighten, eyes watering as she groans.

Garrus places a hand on her shoulder, “Shepard? Daron are you okay?”

She shakes her head, “Yeah, just cutting the tie. You should hold on.”

A steadying arm wraps around waist as she slumps against the wall and the lift rockets toward the docking berth.

“That’s how you did it yesterday,” he muses.

“Yes, except I wasn’t on that one,” she growls as the lift jerks to a stop and the door opens.

They make it through decon, the airlock and down the stairs before her knees give out.

He gets her to med bay, onto a table and is tucking a lightweight blanket around her when Chakwas gently nudges him out of the way.

Karin’s eyes widen at the stain that leeches into the blanket, “Damn it Daron, you didn’t!”

She searches for scissors to remove Daron’s clothing but in her panic can’t find them.

So she fumbles at the buttons and catches until Garrus helps by ripping through the heavy fabric with his talons, ignoring the blood that stains her thighs.

DeClan joins them, “What in the hell is going on?”

Both Karin and Garrus shake their heads, the physician’s voice is stricken as she answers, “She’s miscarrying and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.”

Adan rises to her elbows, bearing down to hurry the process along. 

Her lips pull into a tight line that becomes a hard grimace as her groans escalate into a scream.

She collapses to the table when Karin lifts her head, tears in her eyes. 

The doctor opens her omni tool; positioning the scanner over Adan, revealing the surviving child.

Garrus looks closer, “It’s turian, but ... then the other child was, is turian as well?”

Karin shakes her head, her steely gaze on DeClan as she answers, “No.”

“This is all that is left between us. THIS is all that I will give you,” Adan whispers, closing her eyes and turning away from DeClan’s pain glazed stare.


	28. Accordance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of a friendship.

Chakwas keeps her under for seventy-two hours, all her meals and fluids come and go in a bag.

DeClan quits the ship during those three days, a feeling of relief sweeps over the crew now that they are relieved of the stricken glare in DeClan’s gaze. 

When Adan awakens, she’s only allowed up to use the restroom and Karin escorts her to and from the facilities every time.

The atmosphere on the ship is tense, no one knows what’s going on with their affable S1 incapacitated and their CO is no where to be found.

Upon his return; four days later, Wrex and Tali are in tow and they pull out of the docking cradle with their marching orders: find Saren and bring him to either the council’s or Céile Kryik justice.

Kaidan and the rest of the crew had been busy while they waited.

Nihlus’ old quarters were retrofitted with two bunks and a clean room has been established for Tali off engineering.

DeClan takes Anderson’s quarters, leaving Adan with their old quarters and she makes quick work of the bunk beds, turning it into a full size bed.

Chakwas hasn’t or refuses to clear her for full duty and keeps her tethered to the ship and med bay with daily appointments, so she resumes her rounds - adding Garrus, Wrex and Tali to her route.

Upon her first visit with Tali, she’s pulled into a tight hug, “Thank you for allowing me to come with you. Most wouldn’t allow a Suit Rat onto their ship.”

Adan gasps at her strength, “Stop calling yourself that. I’m not that only one that’s happy you’re here; Adams raves about you. Is there anything else that you need? I know that nutrient paste isn’t your thing but we’ll find a way for you to have a real meal.”

She laughs when Tali shoves her out of engineering with assurances that everything is fine.

There is friction between her and Wrex, as he’s DeClan’s friend and she doesn’t know how to bridge the gap, so she avoids him.

Her visits to Garrus have been tense and after several days, she tires of it quickly.

“You think I shouldn’t have done it?” She tosses the question at his back, halting his calibrations.

“The child was innocent Daron,” he turns, finding her inside the vehicle. 

Stepping into the vehicle, he slides the door close, “Why?”

In the privacy of the Mako with Garrus sitting across from her, she allows herself to weep for the life she’d cut short.

“He knew that he was binding us together that night, he meant to do it. I always keep my promises, Garrus. I’d promised DeClan that if he used or hurt me again, I’d find a way to repay him.”

His touch is gentle on her chin as he raises her head, “The child was not at fault.”

“It was the child or me. I burnt out on purpose, The amp is to regulate not increase my biotics.”

He shakes his head, “Your Dean dioghaltas air? It’s a suicide mission? Do you even plan to defeat Saren? Do you know why we, turians, stop pursuing it.”

“I hadn’t planned to live through it, well before I found myself pregnant with Nihlus’ child and I don’t understand how, we’ve been told that it can’t happen,” she answers with a weak smile.

His mandibles quirk at the awe and wonder that lights up her face as her hands skim over her flat belly, then her face becomes serious.

"There is an old Chinese proverb that comes to mind,” she closes her eyes, then speaks, “He who seeks revenge should remember to dig two graves." 

“That is the sum of it,” he answers watching her brows knit then smooth.

“You loved him?” He asks.

“I love him. He saw me, knew me. He knew I was broken, yet he didn’t fault me for it, loved me despite it and wanted me still,” she wipes tears from her face, smiling up at him with luminescent jade eyes.

“Abused and broken are two different things Daron. If you let Saren kill you then you are broken. What DeClan did to you that night was abuse, èignich-rape, even if you wanted it,” Garrus counters.

She shakes her head, “I could have told you what I planned to do. I shouldn’t have blindsided you.”

He hums his agreement.

“I’ll never do that to you again, I promise,” she rests a hand on his thigh.

He opens the door, “I’m holding you to that Daron.”

“I know,” she whispers to herself totally unaware that Garrus has heard her as well.


	29. Penance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DeClan is reminded of a promise made and forgotten.

The tension between DeClan and Adan isn’t as palpable but it’s still there as they orbit around one another.

A month passes before he calls them all to the comm room. He has his commander mask on, eyes hard flints that stare at his crew.

Kaidan refuses to meet DeClan’s stare. His anger at Adan's burn out hasn't subsided.

Williams is unsure of what is going on.

Tali maintains her effervescent personality.

Wrex pins Adan with a gimlet stare and Garrus bristles at the tension that fills the room.

He passes out orders with no remorse, when he reaches Adan, his voice is icy.

“I need you to use whatever contacts you have to get us information on Dr. Liara T’Soni. Do not let me down. Everyone else is dismissed, Commander Shepard a moment please.”

The doors lock once everyone else has quit the room.

“Moreau, cut all communications and audio feed from this room. Restore comm on my command.” Is his next order.

She remains seated, watching him pace the room. His long legged gait eats up the space between her and the wall of vid screens.

He finally kneels before her, “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you. I hurt you but damn it Daron, why?”

His eyes speak of his heartache, pain and her betrayal.

She runs a hand over his ruddy hair that curls at the back of his ears now that he’s let it grow out, “Years ago, I made a promise to you.”

She plants a kiss on his forehead, catching the tears roll down his cheeks with her thumbs.

“I told you so many years ago after Shelby, that if you used me. If you hurt me I’d repay that debt and I have. You knew that night your seed would take. You knew that I was vulnerable and still you did as you wanted.”

She kneels with him, “I have always allowed you to have a life. I have never stood in your way. Not the night before your wedding. Not when you took your wife to our home, her belly swollen with your child. Not even when you signed the order to have me transferred from our last command.”

She lifts his chin so that their eyes meet.

“I have always kept my word, DeClan. Even when you have not or when you've forgotten.”

When she kisses him it leaves bitter ashes in his mouth.

“I am sorry that the child had to pay for your failings, now open the damn door before I pull it off the hinges.”

He rises, fingers flying over his omni-tool to release the lock on the door.

She retreats to the cargo hold to find Williams at the weapons bench, reaching for her sniper rifle.

“I’ll take care of her Williams,” she says, startling the woman.

“I meant to come see you while you were in the med bay but Chakwas was like an angry mother hen.”

They both share a laugh, ending when they wipe tears from their eyes.

“I said a prayer for you and the child, I hope you don’t mind?” She offers, her worry reads across her brow.

“I pray too, Williams,” she whispers hoping to ease the woman’s apprehension.

“So you said you used standard rounds, why?” 

Adan goes to her weapon locker, removing the older rifle and takes it back to the bench.

“Some people don’t deserve a quick death. They don’t deserve a round that cauterizes their wounds. Some deserve to feel it.”

She quickly dismantles the weapon, “Besides, it’s good to know that I have at least one weapon that doesn’t require all those damn mods.”

The two women work in companionable silence until Adan’s omni tool beeps, alerting her to the scheduled appointment with Chakwas.


	30. Fighting our way back.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say time heals all wounds and Liara nearly spills the beans.

Today her check up doesn't take as long.

Chakwas does a quick scan, gently pressing into her belly, while smiling at her, “ Is there anything I should know? Strange cravings, pains or aches?”

The older woman can only chuckle as Adan answers absently, her eyes on the monitor.

Dr. Chakwas sets Adan’s clothing to rights, “You can get back to your workouts Daron and you should forgive him. Not for him...for you. We’ll need you both to finish this thing.”

Adan’s gaze snaps to the physician and she gives a barely perceptible nod before she quits the room.

She’d planned to heed the woman’s words but gets caught up locating Dr. T’Soni.

After a number of failures she resorts to old habits, underground contacts lead her back to Admiral Hackett who gives her the young asari’s location.

On the way to the system they pick up several missions that allows them to fall back into some of their old habits; the banter has returned and they check each other’s armor and equipment before leaving the Normandy.

Much to Kaidan’s relief, the pair have started sharing meals again and Adan doesn’t flee when DeClan joins the biotics in conversation.

Despite all this neither can completely cross the breach opened by the events of the Citadel or afterwards. 

When they reach Therum, DeClan lets Adan lead the ground team, in the end he wishes like hell he hadn’t. 

The door to the shuttle barely opens and Garrus with Adan in his arms; a hand pressed high into her groin over a wound Medi-gel had been applied nearly too late, dashes to medical.

Chakwas relieves Adan of her armor, administers another dose of Medi-gel with antibiotic and seals the wound; all the while venting a stream of curses that blister the ears of everyone within hearing range.

DeClan arrives during the flurry of activity, any help declined by the physician.

In the end he’s relegated to leaning against Dr. Chakwas’ desk until she finishes, a hand pressed to his forehead to shield him from the amount of blood that covers Garrus’ hand, Adan’s discarded armor and Dr. Chakwas’s gloves.

Once the physician steps away, he gives a shake of his head, rage over coming his fear, "Really, Adan this was supposed to be a routine drop and scoop! What in the hell happened?

Her snorts of amusement dissolve his anger, forcing him to smile with her, as she chortles, "When's the last time anything we've stepped into was routine?"

"Never but that still doesn't explain that," his eyes flick to the wound high on her naked thigh.

“She took on a Krogan battle master.” Garrus laughs at Adan's side.

Wrex leans over the table, displaying all his broad teeth, “You escaped with only a flesh wound?”

“I didn’t get this in the fight Wrex. I got it when the site decided to fall apart around us,” she grimaces.

From the back of the med-lab comes a quiet reply, “She brought him to his knees. In the end she cut his throat ... after he requested it. He was ashamed that he’d lost to her.”

They all turn to the asari who seems to shrinks under their combined gazes.

“Now that you’ve awed everyone Adan. Let’s go, we got a briefing to get done.” DeClan barks to hide his concern.

With a nod from Chakwas, she slides from the table and the rest of the motley crew heads down to the comm room. 

Adan takes a detour to her own quarters for a quick shower and to change into a pair of sweats and her hoodie before heading to the comm room.

Inside, everyone is seated, the room abuzz with conversation about the past mission.

Ideas are tossed around about what should be done next, when the beacon is mentioned Dr. T’Soni becomes excited, leaping from her chair to question DeClan.

Once DeClan explains the situation to Dr. T’Soni, she suggests a meld.

Adan shifts uncomfortably in her chair; her research has said that melding is private--an intimate thing.

When she steps away from DeClan, Liara admits that she cannot decipher what the beacon has given him, that something is missing.

“Adan was caught by the beacon as well,” DeClan glances pointedly in his sister’s direction.

Adan doesn't want to do this.

She doesn't want anyone in her head like that; especially when she's not sure how much actual control she will have over what the young asari will see.

She has to remind herself that this isn’t about her but the mission, reluctantly she submits to the meld but fills her mind with thoughts of Nihlus.

She’d failed to tell Dr. Chakwas; or been ashamed to mention, that as her pregnancy progresses her libido seemed to be growing exponentially.

She experienced an increase in arousal at the slightest touch.

Her shower’s were almost unbearable but on missions, where there was an actual battle, she became so aroused that it became imperative that she showered as soon as they returned, as she could smell herself and worried that the others would as well.

When the asari releases her she swoons nearly taking Adan to the floor with her.

“Commander. Really...” the young woman’s face becomes a neon indigo, her pupils dilate as her tongue wipes across her lips.

Her eyes flicker between Adan and DeClan as she heaves another breath; her mouth moves to form words but she’d cut off by a jerk of Adan’s head and DeClan’s voice.

“Do you have enough to tell us where to go next?” He questions, supporting the woman’s weight.

The young Asari blinks up at him, “I will need some time to work through the visions.”

DeClan nods, “That’s fine. We have other missions we can take care of until you do. Get to the med bay and let Chakwas take a look at you.”

The young asari retreats back through the doors, leaving Adan with three pairs of eyes on her.


	31. Closer

“What did you do?” Wrex finally asks, running a hand under his chin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Wrex, you’ll have to be more specific,” she sighs in irritation.

His head dips low, the lights of the room catching on the green undertones of his crest, “Specific…so you want to talk about you causing the asari to come during your meld or how you defeated a Krogan battle master?”

Adan gives a shake of her head, “As for T’Soni that wasn’t my intention but planet side...it’s not like he gave me time to come up with a game plan. I was trying not to get my ass handed to me while the doctor was screaming her damn head off.”

His booming laughter surprises them all as he shakes his head, “You bested a krogan and don’t know how?”

As she goes to stand both DeClan and Garrus move to assist her, each taking a step back when she holds up a hand.

“I’m fine! It’s not the first time I’ve been wounded,” she takes off with a slight limp, the doors hissing closed behind her.

DeClan runs a hand over his forehead, “What in the hell is that about?”

It’s Ashley who answers.

“She has three alpha males hovering over her. We’ve been at this for almost three months and unless she waiting at the cargo door or hops on the Mako you exclude her.”

The only one who has the decency to look embarrassed is Garrus, who runs a hand beneath his fringe.

“Have any of you considered that she doesn’t need to be protected?” She asks with a tilt of her head, eyes sparking with something none of the men recognize.

“She’s with child,” Wrex offers as if that is answer enough.

Ashley’s lips curl in a mockery of a smile, “She was pregnant when Saren sent those assassins after us on the Citadel. She was pregnant when you saved Tali and you didn’t stop her then, so why now?”

Garrus harmonics rumble softly, “Because I can smell her and hear the child’s heart beat inside her now.”

This earns a nod from the marine, “Understood but it’s still no excuse.”

She shake her head in disbelief, the door closing behind her while she mumbles to herself.

The three males are left staring at each other, until Wrex finally utters, “I thought krogan females were trouble.”

Each man quits the comm room sorting through their thoughts.

DeClan seeks Adan out.

Her cabin is empty, she’s not with Chakwas nor is she on the bridge.

He finds her down in the belly of the ship, he’s surprised that the entire hold has been converted to a gym.

A heavy bag hangs in one corner, a sparring area dominates the center, treadmills line one wall and free weights the other.

Adan is in the far corner of the room, lights blinking at her ears, a blade in each hand.

His first instinct is to call out but he stops himself to watch.

She rocks to whatever she’s listening before spinning into motion, blades glinting as she attacks the dummy.

He's mesmerized, she's both beautiful and deadly.

One of the crew joins her, he believes his name is Grieco and he has a single blade in his hand.

He engages her without hesitation, they parry and thrust with trusted familiarity.

The bout is finished when they each spin, their blades at one another’s throat.

“Still can’t seem to catch you off guard,” Grieco offers when the lights at Adan’s ears darken. 

“Thanks Marcus,” she smiles, “change the oil you use and maybe you will.”

Dark shaggy hair hides the man’s eyes, “I did change it, must still be in the cloth.”

He scratches as his the back of his head, “Thanks again Commander. Like I've said before it’s been a while since I’ve sparred with someone that challenges me.” 

Adan cleans her own blade, “I wonder if that has more to do with you isolating yourself than no one being up to par.”

Grieco brushes his long bangs from his eyes to reveal cloudy blue orbs, “Could be but no one wants to duel with the blind guy in engineering.”

He sheaths the blade, turning away.

“It’s good to finally meet you Commander,” he calls over his shoulder, his chin directing Adan’s gaze as he quits the room.

“We’re going to have to talk about your penchant for spying on me DeClan,” she smiles, grabbing a towel to mop her face clean while closing the distance between them.

“I spy because you keep secrets,” he answers sourly.

He’s surprised when she cups his face in her hands, planting a chaste kiss on his mouth.

“Pouting and sulking doesn’t fit you,” she deftly side steps the topic, not wanting to fight with him.

His larger hands cover hers, calloused thumbs stroke along her fingers, his quiet reply is nearly lost beneath the noise of the ship, “I’m sorry.”

She’s gently enveloped in his arms when she attempts to step away, he buries his face into her scarred neck and shoulder; silent tears soaking her shirt.

She allows him to weep, an arm tight at his waist and the other across his shoulders while her hand smooths over the new stubble of his shorn hair.

His lips trace the scars along her neck; nipping, seeking and finding her mouth.

Her breath is a blessed sigh against his lips.

He can't hold the groan of disappointment when she halts his insistent hands at the hem of her shirt.

“No DeClan,” she breaths in the saltiness of his tears, shaking her head at the question in his eyes while ignoring the slight tremor of his hands against her skin.

“I want you,” he sighs against her hair, taking in her scent on a noisy inhale.

Her hair tickles his lips and catch in the stubble at his chin when she shakes her head.

“Exactly, you want me DeClan. You don’t need me and you’ve never learned the difference when it came to us,” she pulls from his embrace.

His hand is hard enough to bruise at her wrist, “Want and need are two sides of the same coin, Adan.”

When she rotates her wrist in his grip, he releases her but halts her retreat by stepping into her path.

“I never took you to be naive,” his hazel eyes bore into flint like silver as her mask drops into place.

“I was only naive when it came to us,” she pushes hair from her eyes, chewing her lower lip.

“I let you have a life and me. I stayed silent after making love to you while you were showering to marry another woman and again when I handed her the ring she placed on your finger with tears in her eyes,” 

He fights to maintain her gaze, her eye shiny with unshed tears as she continues.

“I remained silent when you told me; in bed, that you’d be moving her and your unborn child into our house. Then again, when you fucked me senseless instead of listening to why I wanted to talk to our parents. If I’ve been naive about anything, it’s about you,” tears skate a path down her cheeks when she shakes her head.

Her voice is a ragged whisper, “You want many things DeClan. You shelve me until you want me, once the girls you mesmerize and cajole with sweet words, soft touches and a good fuck realize that that is all you can give them. You lust after me. I’m your safety net. You like that I can take and give just as hard as you can but you don’t want me, DeClan.”

He acknowledges her words with a hard nod, “They don’t understand me, you do.”

Chuckling, she turns back to the dummy, retrieving her blade, “Shelby obviously understood you. You were together for five years. She even got you down the aisle, managed to get you to stop your dose to knock her up.”

The engine noise can’t cover the heavy sigh and tremble in her voice, “Nihlus wanted me. Tannor wanted me. One I lost to Saren and the other let me go so he wouldn’t have to kill you.”

Her gaze cuts him deeper than any armor piercing round or scalpel ever will or can, “You want me back in your life, your bed then stop treating me like a common asari whore. Treat me like I mean something to you other than a place mark in the pages of your life.”

He doesn’t try to stop her when she leaves this time; he can only stand there with his eyes on the empty space where’d she once stood.


	32. Caution

She ends up on a cold table with Chakwas’ soft but firm touch at her belly, marking the height of her uterus while shaking her head in wonder.

“If I wasn’t looking at it Daron, I’d tell you this wasn’t possible but,” she lowers the scanner to reveal the growing child, “I’m looking at it with my own eyes.”

Already the fringe is visible, two fingers upright, the thumb tucked into its mouth, 

They both look over to see Liara standing in the open door of the storeroom.

“May I?” She asks quietly as she moves closer to the table, her eyes on the monitor.

Adan nods, watching the young woman move, her eyebrows drawn in a question then raising in surprise when she realizes what the monitor reveals.

“Goddess, is that...it’s Turian,” she sputters, “that’s, it’s not possible. All research available reports that the chirality, that the species.”

A hand goes to both Adan’s belly and the monitor.

“Yes, it is,” Adan murmurs when Liara jerks her hand from her skin.

Chakwas shuts down the monitor, gives Adan’s shoulder a squeeze and quits the med bay.

Liara turns and very plainly states, “He is your brother.”

Adan takes a deep breath, leaving the table before answering, “Yes, no one knows and we’d like to keep it that way.”

Liara tints a nearly neon indigo, “The two of you have, you’ve been....”

Glacial ice and butane blue meet over the empty space, “You don’t have to understand it. I don’t even understand it and it began before we knew. I’m trusting you with this Liara.”

Adan grins when Liara’s frame glow with her own periwinkle biotics, “I’m young Commander, not defenseless.”

It’s only after she is lying in the wreckage of the storeroom that Liara realizes her mistake.

“Never said you were defenseless, I said I’m trusting you,” Adan helps her from the crushed boxes and fallen shelves.

While staring at one another, the two women come to a silent understanding.

Liara realizes that there are some things she doesn’t understand and Adan that the young Asari has feelings for DeClan.

“Be careful with him Liara. He’ll use you up and move on to the next one. If you aren’t careful with your heart, he’ll use that up as well.”

Liara shocks Adan by pulling her into a her surprisingly strong embrace, “You looked like you needed a hug and I will. Thank you.”

She’s propelled out of the store room, silently thanking the asari who’s lifted years of weight and worry from her shoulders.

Exhausted she makes her rounds, stopping by the bridge to see Joker, finding Kaidan there as well.

“What Commander, no one to carry you today?” Joker quips over his shoulder.

He smiles when her lips quirk up in a grin.

“I think you’re just jealous that it wasn’t you but if you ever need a lift, Joker, I’ll piggy back you any place you want to go.”

This gains a laugh from even Kaidan who joins her as she heads back to the CIC.

“Adan I’m glad to see you’re okay,” his eyes are warm as they roam her face.

“I was wondering if once we got back to Citadel space, if I could take you out for a drink or dinner,” his smile tugs at her heart.

“I’ll cook and you can bring the drinks,” she agrees leaving him there with a huge grin on his face.

Tali is busy with Adams in engineering so the visit is nothing but a wave across the space.

When she goes to pass Wrex up, his booming voice halts her steps as he calls, “Kryik?”


	33. Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrex gets more than he bargains for...

Her eyes close against the stuttering of her heart and she swallows down the bile that rises.

“Wrex,” she bites off, turning to face the huge male.

“You never answered my question,” his burgundy eyes narrow as she approaches, “leads me to believe you just got lucky … like with the assassins, maybe.”

She gives a slow shake of her head before shrugging, “I get it Wrex, you’re DeClan’s friend. I hurt him and you don’t like it.”

The huge krogan bares his teeth at her, “Friendship has nothing to do with this.”

He lumbers toward her, biotics flare in warning.

She doesn’t move her eyes locked on his.

A surprised grunt escapes her when Wrex puts his shoulder to her gut, lifting her.

The sound of crates hitting the floor startles everyone as Adan rises from where Wrex lies.

“Am I lucky Wrex or do I mean it?” Adan’s voice is a harsh whisper.

He shakes his huge head, bellowing as he rises, “Lucky Kryik!”

She charges him again, knocking him further into the stack of crates, “Am I lucky Wrex or do I mean it?”

She’s heard that krogan were stubborn but Wrex takes it to another level, “Still. Lucky. Kryik.”

The smell of thunderstorms fill the hold.

Eezo crackles in the air, but the shockwave she’s gathering is halted by Garrus pinning her arms against her body with his own, his dual voice rumbling through her, “You don’t want to do this.”

She emits a growl worthy of a turian and the smell of eezo wraps around them.

Her nipples peak, the crotch of her panties become soaked when he lowers his mouth to her ear, his mandibles fluttering against her skin as he speaks; she rocks back into him.

“You’re tired, he’s goading you and you’ll be disgusted with yourself tomorrow if you do this,” Garrus offers.

Instantly, she remembers to be angry and struggles in his hold, “I don’t need you to protect me Garrus!”

He huffs with laughter, “No you don’t but Wrex does. From you.”

“I heard that Vakarian,” Wrex grumbles from where he is leaning against the few crates that hadn’t been destroyed.

Slowly Garrus releases Adan, turning her toward him, his brow plates rising in question, “You smell like…”

He gives her a long look finally conceding, “let’s get you bathed and to bed.”

She gives a shake of her head, “I don’t need you ....”

A taloned finger cut her off as his beryl eyes soften, “No, you don’t but I need to and you want me to unless you want Wrex to do more than charge you.”

She allows him to usher her from the hold, onto the lift and to her quarters.

She takes a minute to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light of the room, an involuntary sigh escaping her once the heat of the room envelopes her. 

He watches her navigate the dark the room on sure feet, a brief illumination of orange light accompanies music. 

“Do turians dance?” she asks as a woman’s voice drifts from the speaker.

He notes that her eyes are closed when she turns to him, swaying to the music. 

With a shake of his head he answers, “They do. Me. Not so much.”

He watches as she releases her hair from the tight bun, allowing it to cascade down her back as she dances around the small space. 

He remains quiet, eyes following the banner of her hair that swings wildly out of sync with the movement of her waist and hips.

She sings along with the song before abruptly dismissing it for a new one.

When she disappears into the bathroom, the singing is interrupted by the sound of water hitting flesh and tiles and he can relax now that the scent of her arousal is gone.

In minutes the shower is silenced to reveal Adan’s voice, haunted, ranged and appealing to Garrus’ acute hearing.

He leans against the bulk head, eyes closing until he hears her voice crack.

“Adan,” he knocks at the door, then gives it a second, third and a fourth rap that lands on her forehead.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He growls at her.

She pulls the toothbrush from her mouth, spits then rinses before answering.

“I was brushing my teeth,” she returns his growl while running a hand over her smarting forehead, hoping that his knuckles wouldn’t be imprinted there later.

There is no pretense of modesty as she strides naked past him to her closet, using the large towel to dry her hair.

Garrus quickly turns his back, until he hears clothing sliding over skin and the bed shifting beneath her.

When he turns around, she is using her fingers to untangle her hair before dragging a brush through the length of it.

“I never got to thank you for taking care of my hair when Karin replaced my amp, so thank you,” she says before throwing her head forward and raking the brush through it.


	34. To Sleep, To Dream....or Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people sleep through the night, some not all.

The sound is harsh to Garrus ears and he covers the distance to the bed, halting her next stroke.

“Are all humans this rough with their fringe?” He questions when she cants her head to peer at him.

“It’s hair. If the way I handle it bothers you, here’s the brush,” she snaps, thrusting the tool at him like a sword.

There is no argument on his end; he sits behind her using first his talons then a firm hand to brush through her hair.

When he’s satisfied with the results, he plaits it, the nearly too hard tugging has her humming beneath his hands, almost asleep.

She feels the tension in his thighs even before he goes to stand.

He’s stayed by the firm pressure at his knee and her soft request, “Don’t go.”

“Adan, I can’t. I wouldn’t want anyone to think...” he counters.

She gives a shake of her head, “Tell them you were protecting Wrex. That you were protecting them from me. I don’t care what you tell them. Damn it Garrus!”

She runs her hands down her face, eyes haunted when she continues.

“Stay because if you don’t I won’t sleep. I’ll lie here staring at the ceiling or down in the gym trying to wear myself out.”

She turns to face him, “You can leave once I’m...just stay,” her voice is tired, “until I fall asleep?”

He rises, talons releasing the catches of his armor and lowering it to the floor as he pulls the comforter to the foot of the bed.

She surprises him by dropping her gaze as he undresses, he slides beneath the heavy comforter first and she follows her eyes on his own. 

He watches her.

Long fingers with jagged nails pluck at the end of the braid, then the loose curls that frame her face until finally her eyes slide close once, twice and then a third, each time remaining closed a bit longer until they don’t open again.

Even at rest her brows knit together, a fine line appears between them that disappears as her face relaxes with the slowing cadence of her breath.

Turians are on a different sleep cycle, napping more during the day, so he watches over her while she sleeps.

It’s been nearly two hours when her face contorts; now on her back, her entire body goes taut and her hands tighten into fists blooming the sharp scent of blood into the room.

Remembering his Alliance hand signals, he gives her non firing shoulder a firm squeeze but she doesn’t wake.

Her fist tighten further and although the sound of her teeth grinding together is soothing to his ears, he knows it is not good for her.

He gently opens one fist then the other, with gentle movements he turns her toward him and presses both to his chest before pulling her much smaller frame into his.

Her nails drum a pattern on his plates and it takes him a minute to realize she’s mimicking the accelerated rate of his heart beat.

It only takes several deep breaths to slow the cadence of his heart and her fingers follow through to become slow strokes that cause him to purr softly.

Her lids are aflutter with the movement that cease when he purrs into her face.

She bolts upright in the bed, “Missing planet. How in the hell do you miss a planet?”

Leaving the bed she goes to her desk, hands flying across the holo keys.

“Adan?” he calls once, twice then joins her when she doesn’t respond. 

The ruddy light of the monitor reveal pupils drawn to pinpoints and a scan of the document shows that the language isn’t English, Turian or any other that he’s seen. 

Her omni tool is open, several screens thrum with activity.

Her fingers glide over the holo displays, pulling up star charts, documents that he realizes can only be access by someone with a security clearance much higher than his.

He peruses the lone screen; working furiously, closest to him to see that it’s a data mine of the Citadel’s archives.

Adan collates, searches, sends emails to the Serrice council, an obscure asari matriarch, even shoots off a request to the Shadow Broker before she saves the document, terminates every search engine before wiping the history clean, only then do her hands drop from the keys.

Woodenly, she returns to the bed, lies flat on her back, eyes wide open yet unseeing.

When he joins her, she turns into him, sliding a thigh between his own, the fingers of one hand wrap around his cowl and the palm of the other rests over his heart. 

It takes more than an hour before her lids slide shut over luminous lime irises and her breathing settles.

“Spirits what in the hell was that about?” He questions, using a foot to drag the bed clothes up and over them, following her down into sleep.

He awakens to gentle caresses along the edges of his mandibles, fingers dipping to stroke the soft skin beneath them and hot breath at his neck.

His vision is clouded, obscured by red and it takes him a second to realize that it’s hair. 

Shepard’s hair, tickling along his mandibles and at his neck, with gentle hands he stops her explorations, his vision clearing when she tosses her hair away.

“Maidann, mòran taing,” she says, her grin widens at the purring that fills the room, his brow plates rising.

“Good morning and you’re welcome,” he shifts slightly, a subtle move that says many things and nothing at all.

Once she’s off him he rolls onto his side, propping his head in a hand, “Did he teach you?”

A hand catches her hair to drag it over a shoulder. 

She shakes her head before answering, “I knew battlefield commands, common greetings.” 

Her brow furrows, “after the beacon...I didn’t need my translator anymore. When you speak, I hear you.”

She pauses, fingers picking at the ends of her hair, “I realized it on the Tower with Saren, it’s how I was able to ...”

He gives a nod, harmonics rumbling as he changes the subject, “Did you sleep well?”

She nods then shakes her head, “I know that I have nightmares and then there’s the sleep walking.”

Her brow furrows with her thoughts, “I’ve awaken a couple of nights standing over the galaxy map or at my desk.”

She snorts and he realizes that it’s a laugh, “I even woke up outside of DeClan’s cabin one night. So to wake up in my own bed,” she gives a shrug, “then yes I slept well.”

His huffing laughter pulls her grin wider.

“Then I’m glad to be of service,” he rolls from the bed, his armor in place within seconds, “I’ll see you later Adan.”

He quits her cabin to leave her sitting in bed, feeling more rested than she’s been since the beacon and Nihlus’ death.


	35. The anger of a patient man...

She dresses, has breakfast and joins Joker on the bridge.

“I missed you last night,” he starts with a crooked grin.

“You usually show up, mess around with my nav controls then spend the rest of the night staring at the map. Find something to keep you in bed last night?”

She passes a glance between the mug in her hand and him, “I guess I’ll just take this back to the mess, seems a certain smart ass helmsman doesn’t deserve any coffee today.”

“What a hard ass! Fine, I’ll shut up,” he grumbles and turns back to the controls, his hand appears, waiting. 

She makes him wait several minutes, sliding into the empty seat before she hands off the mug.

Her fingers drift over the haptic display.

“Hey, Commander! Don’t go messing with anything over there,” Joker barks between gulps of coffee.

Her fingers drag over the warm displays as she relaxes back into the seat, “Did you save any of them? Any idea what I was looking for?”

He gives a quick jerk of his head, “After the first one, no. As for the destination, hell if I know Commander. All your coordinates would jump us out to the middle of nowhere with a long trip back to civilization.”

Rubbing a hand over her brow, she gives a shake of her head, ‘There has to be something.”

A familiar gait draws her gaze from the display, as DeClan speaks; “Joker, I’m tired of drifting, take us back to the Citadel maybe we can get some decent Intel.”

His gaze is on her loose hair as he adds, “I’m sure no one would mind a bit of shore leave.”

He’s staring and he knows that she can feel the weight, especially when her gaze targets the stars streaking outside the window.

When she meets his stare he notices that the burnt out look is gone from her eyes, her skin has regained it’s healthy glow and the grin he missed is back.

“Commander, a minute please,” he gives a jerk of his head, watching as she rises from the chair to follow him.

In the briefing room, he finally speaks, “We’re going to have to get you new uniforms.”

She runs a hand over the tunic she’s taken to wearing since her figure began to give way to the subtle changes of pregnancy.

“I wasn’t aware that I was out of regs,” she offers, as she plaits the loose end of her pony tail, knotting it into a neat a bun and going to attention.

He watches the material stretch over her breasts and tighten at her shoulders, even the loose material that drapes her hips can’t cover the fact that her pregnancy has added fullness there, reducing her waistline further.

His breath is hot at her ear as he orders, “Do. Not. Move. Daron.”

A hand smooths over her shoulders then down the seam that runs from her neck to the curve of her ass.

“Your BDU’s and even this uniform are nearly unserviceable, and the requisition officer has already forwarded your request for new under armor and ceramics, despite it being several months early I’ve approved it,” he plucks a piece of imaginary lint from her collar.

“I had the pleasure of overhearing a conversation about Vakarian leaving your quarters this morning. It seems the males onboard think that humans are beneath you,” he chuckles fingertips dragging over her waist as he circles her.

When he’s staring in her eyes again, he startles her by abruptly tugging at the hem of her tunic to watch her breasts draw the material back up her thighs.

The steel he’s missed is back in her eyes, her focus over his right shoulder.

He chews his lip as he considers his next words, his goal is to piss her off, “What you do on your own time is your business but when it becomes a part of the crew’s morning chew…”

She meets his gaze, her eyes tinting a strange lime; her lips thinning, “Permission to speak, Commander.”

She doesn’t allow him to finish his nod, “I am NOT fucking Garrus, YET,” she adds baring her teeth as she continues, “but I did share a bed with him. I have not slept through the night since Eden Prime. I awake every night either on the bridge, at the Galaxy map or at my desk. I’ve even awaken standing at your door.”

He has to turn his back as she speaks, in her anger; her voice has taken on undertones and a lilt he doesn’t recognize, yet it causes his cock to jerk and expand in his trousers.

His eyes drift close as she continues, “What I do in my quarters with non-Alliance personnel is my fucking business and if the ship’s gossips are becoming a problem; disciplinary action, not dressing me down about something I cannot control would seem the proper course of action, Commander.”

He circles the edge of the room to stand behind her again, watching her shoulder pull back and down as she calms herself.

Her anger pings through him.

He knows that she hasn’t slept; has heard and felt her wandering the ship and the weight of the exhaustion on her shoulders.

He first realized he was receiving echoes of her emotions when she allowed herself to grieve for their child and the link has only increased since then.

He’d awoken this morning aroused and quickly realized that it was an echo of her feelings and hearing the two engineers had set him off.

“You want him, Adan. I can feel it. Smell it on you,” he presses into her enjoying the feel of her stiffening when he grinds his erection into her ass.

He’s met with silence.

Resolved he disables the comm and locks the door via his omni-tool.

“Move forward to the rail, Adan,” he says quietly.

She gives a shake of her head, defying him.

“Commander Adan Daron Shepard, six steps forward,” he orders watching as she moves stiffly to the rail, her hands clench into fist and her biotics crackle along her knuckles.

They may fight and defy each other on a personal level but she will never defy an order.

Despite their personal relationship, she is a soldier.

She takes pride in that fact and he uses it against her.

She is conflicted as she follows his orders.

She can’t decide whether she is angry or aroused at his treatment.

She’s not sure who the person behind her is, where or how he’d kept this part of him from her.

She’d seen pieces of it but had always assumed the media had caught him at a bad time, that it wasn’t a part of him but in this moment she realizes that it has always been there.

This was the person who’d slept with Preston, who’d survived Akuze, who’d gotten married while expecting her to still be there, who’d fucked her hours before taking his vows.

“Get out of your head Commander,” he breaths against her neck, hard fingers peel away the collar to reveal the scars of Nihlus’ teeth.

He grins when she sucks in a breath when he matches his own teeth to them and his hands cup her breasts unaware that his fingers are aligned with the scars that decorate her skin.

“I know why you did it Adan. I forgive you, I’m sorry and I love you. I love you even though you carry his child. I love watching you glow and blossom with new life, even if it’s not mine. I need you in my life, to breath. I need you by my side,” he whispers against the super sensitive skin listening to her breath hitch.

“Can I?” he asks, removing his teeth from her skin.

Her answer is hot tears splashing onto his hands, then down his chin when he presses his mouth to hers. 

When his hands move to undo her tunic, she stops him.

Her words are a husky whisper against his lips, “DeClan, we both know if we start this as we once did it will end the same.”

It is hard but he stops himself, his hands cup her face bringing their foreheads together.

“Okay,” he answers.

He thumbs away the tears that streak her face, drops a chaste kiss on her forehead and quits the room.

As he makes his way to his quarters it dawns on him that he’ll have to date Adan and that despite his conquests he doesn’t have the slightest idea of how.

In the privacy of his room, he searches the Citadel extranet site for a restaurant and buys clothing that will be delivered to his apartment.

When he finally quits the space, a grin is plastered on his lips and for the first time in months he’s excited.


	36. Doppleganger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew gives DeClan a piece of their minds.

He’s taken up Adan’s habit of visiting the crew and his first stop is to see Kaidan. 

The man is as bad as Garrus.

He’s always tweaking the large screen that dominates the corner of the crew deck and he say as much to him.

“You seem to have a really hard on for that thing,” he says laughingly making sure the smile reaches his eyes as the man looks up.

Kaidan runs a hand over his brow, “Not really, it just requires constant calibrating and I figure if I stay on top of it won’t catch me unaware. So where are we heading?”

This time he doesn’t have to work for the smile to appear genuine, “Back to the Citadel. I’m tired of drifting and I’m sure the crew will be happy to hear that.”

The biotics smiles just as big, “That’s great. Is this a quick stop?”

DeClan turns on his heel, answering “No, we’ll be staying for a couple of days.”

His next stop is the med bay, where he finds Dr. T’Soni hidden in the back room.

“Dr. T’Soni, am I disturbing you?” He asks when her chair spins around.

Her face is unreadable, “No. I was just doing some research on the images that I received during our meld.”

He leans a hip against the desk, “Find anything useful?”

She crosses her arms beneath her breasts once and then her fingers work against each other, “No but I did learn that the volus, Barla Von may have some information for you.”

He gives a nod, “Okay. I guess it’s a good thing we’re heading back to the Citadel. Do you need anything?”

She gives a brief shake of her head, “No, I have everything I need.”

With nothing left to say he turns to leave but is stopped by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Do you love her?” she asks quietly and moves away when he spins on her.

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” he replies in a low voice, watching as she lowers her eyes.

“I saw it when I melded with you,” her brows knit together as she speaks, “you’ve hurt her and you continue to do so even though you believe that you love her.”

His voice is hard when he speaks, “Do I need to repeat myself Dr.T’Soni?”

Her lips quirk in a wry grin, “I have no problem with my hearing, Commander Shepard and neither do you. Yet you have failed to answer my question, so I’ll take your inability as a patent no.”

When he moves forward, she’s very much prepared, biotics flaring, “I made the mistake of misjudging Adan, I’ll not do the same with you. I consider her a friend, even if she doesn’t share the sentiment, don’t hurt her again.”

He’s dismissed when she gives him her back and returns to the terminal.

Dr. Chakwas is at her own terminal, a pair of glasses and a bottle at her elbow, her voice draws him from his thoughts, “Care to join me for a drink, Commander?”

He takes the empty seat she points to, “You call Adan by her first name and call me Commander, why?”

Chakwas’ eyes light with her smile as she answers, “Daron and I have history. You, I barely know.”

She splashes blue liquid into the glasses, offering one to him while taking a sip from her own.

“To call you by your given name assumes a familiarity that we do not have,” she offers as he drains his glass.

“Fair enough but why do I have a feeling that you’ll never call me by my first name,” he laughs, setting the glass aside as he rises.

“Because I won’t,” Dr. Chakwas concedes as he reaches the door.

In the lower decks, he visits Tali but she’d busy with Adams and waves him off promising to catch up later.

He passes Wrex to speak with Ashley, “I take it you still think all men are idiots?”

She gives a shake of her head, “When it comes to pregnant women then yes I do Skipper.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, “Speak freely Williams. I want your honest opinion.”

Ash turns, wiping her hands on a towel, “Do you know anything about women, about the S1? Anything at all?”

“We’ve served together in several units, I think that counts for something,” he laughs trying to break the tension.

Ash’s face is thoughtful before she speaks, “Typical male answer. She’s a soldier just like you. Has had the same training and then some. I’ll give you that she can be reckless, just as you can be, but it’s a calculated thing.”

She pauses to see if he has anything to say, when he doesn’t she continues, “She’s not risking her life anymore and if you and the rest of men paid attention you’d see that she’s being careful, relying more on her training than her gut.”

“So what do you think I should do?” He asks running a hand over his head becoming irritated with how long he’d let grow.

“Do your job and let her do hers, Skipper,” Ashley offers with a sympathetic smile, earning a nod from DeClan

His brow furrows as he recalls the conversation relayed by Adan several weeks ago.

“Any other concerns? About the ship or our nonhuman crew members?” He asks.

She nods toward the Mako, where Garrus and Adan; having arrived during his conversation with Williams, are bent over the vehicle’s control panel.

“Not to sure what to say about that,” she offers quietly,“scuttle butt says the S1 and the Turian are sleeping together and before him the Spectre.”

He’s surprised at how calm his voice is as he replies, “She and Nihlus were mated, Williams. I’m going after Saren to stop whatever he has planned. Adan to avenge Nihlus’ murder. I’m not sure how Garrus fits into it but I’m sure it’s a Turian thing.”

“Understood Sir,” is her answer as he heads toward the Mako


	37. The patience game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DeClan learns ....

“An urrainn dhut sin a dhèanamh?” Adan says her fingers going to the display.

DeClan gives a shake of his head, opening his omni-tool to pull up his translator but he doesn't need it as Garrus laughs his answers; “I don’t think I’ll get used to that any time soon and yes I can do that but only do in extreme circumstances.” 

“Get used to it, Vakarian,” Adan smiles up at Garrus then glances at DeClan, “and if only in extreme circumstances, then why do it all?”

DeClan joins them, his eyes going to the display, taking in the complex algorithms scrolling across the screen, “I’d like to know that as well, Vakarian.”

They both watch as Garrus’ mandibles flutter while he contemplates his answer.

With a quirk of his brow plates he says, “Because I can and occasionally you need to know you can do what others consider impossible.”

DeClan glances over at Adan, an idea forming in his head, a gift of sorts to mend their broken bond.

“Well, Garrus since you’re used to doing the impossible; because you can, I have a project for you once we hit Citadel space,” DeClan remarks while looking over the algorithms.

“You want to clue me in on what you’re talking about?” Garrus finally asks.

DeClan smiles, a mischievous light appearing in his eyes, “I’d tell you but then it would ruin the surprise and if I’m right it’ll save the Alliance money and you time on Mako repairs.”

He leaves Garrus and Adan to share a puzzled until eventually they shrug it off, grinning at one another.

His last stop is Wrex, clasping the Krogan’s hand, he gives him a slap on the shoulder.

Wrex has never been one for conversation, so the visit is very short and DeClan makes his way back up to the bridge as Joker makes the jump into Citadel space.

“The comm is yours, Commander,” Joker says over his shoulder.

DeClan’s announcement of seventy-two hours shore leave is met with cheers and applause.

“You’d think I was running a slaver instead of an Alliance vessel,” he grumbles watching Joker’s brows go up.

“It’s been three months of jumping from one galaxy to the next Shepard, it’s over due,” Joker offers.

DeClan throws his hands up, “Three months is too long?”

Joker watches as DeClan’s hands fly over his omni-tool, “Done. You’ll receive an alert at the next three month mark. I don’t care where we are just head to the nearest station or planet where we can restock and the crew can take some shore leave.”

Joker nods his acknowledgement before DeClan heads down the throat of the ship to disappear through the doors that lead to the crew deck.

By the time he leaves his cabin, the ship is empty, even Adan is gone.

He sends her a quick message receiving an answer immediately.

_Can I get a rain check? Already have plans tonight?_

He’s disappointed but let’s it go; reminding himself that this was the start of something new. 

That he had to allow her space; even if he didn’t like it. 

That he was learning to date her and couldn’t push.

He heads to his own apartment.

It’s been five years since he’s lived in the space, it’s unfamiliar and although it’s clean and the furnishings his, it’s no longer his home. 

He hadn’t lived in these rooms since he’s met Shelby, after her death he’d thrown himself into his career then there was Akuze, a hospital bed and the transfer to the Normandy.

Home had always been aboard whatever vessel he was serving on. 

Shrugging he takes his bag to his bedroom, undressing he leaves a trail of clothing to the bathroom where he takes a shower.

Once cleaned, he orders carry out from Apollo’s, checks his messages, and arranges for several deliveries to the Normandy, while the vid screen keeps him company.

His meal arrives, alone he eats and then heads to bed, falling asleep immediately.


	38. Rebuffed, Humiliated and Attacked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daron is blindsided.

Across the Citadel, Daron and Kaidan are sitting down to share the meal she’s cooked with whiskey for Kaidan’s and sparkling cider for her.

Her hair is wild around her face, bright red toenails peek from beneath the hem of her loose white pants and her forearms are bared by the rolled sleeves of the gold tunic.

“I never got to say I was sorry about Nihlus,” Kaidan offers before sipping from his glass.

He watches a sad smile grace her lips and disappear behind the rim of her glass before asking, “Why would you be sorry?”

Kaidan holds her gaze, “Because he cared about you, Shepard. You were the only one that got him to leave Joker and I alone.”

He pauses to take several bites of the steak then wipes his lips on the napkin in his lap, his voice soft, “He was different around you, when he spoke of you, to you.”

Shaking her head, she pushes her food around her plate, “So I heard there’s a rumor about Garrus and I.”

“It’s typical small ship scuttlebutt and a bit of jealousy,” he says between bites.

“If you spent too much time with Joker, the Commander, Wrex, hell even me, they’d talk.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. They’ll find something or someone else to talk about soon enough,” he finishes with a wave of his fork.

In companionable silence they finish the meal.

He even rolls up his sleeves to help her clean the kitchen before placing a gentle hand at the small of her back to escort to the balcony.

When they’re seated, her eyes are on the sky as the question crosses her lips, “Of all the women on the ship, why me Kaidan?” 

Out of the corner of her eye she watches him run a hand across his neck, clearing his throat once, twice.

“There’s no easy answer for that Shepard,” he reaches across the space to caressing her hand.

He follows her gaze as it travels from his fingers on hers and up his arm to meet his eyes.

A smile graces his lips, his eyes are warmer than usual, “You are the most intriguing woman on the ship and I want to get to know you.”

When he raises her hand to his mouth pressing a dry kiss to it she looks away.

“You’re really sweet Kaidan and you deserve so much more than a broken woman,” she says quietly, her eyes haunted as she continues.

“You want a relationship and I don’t have that in me right now, in the future maybe but not right now, okay?” When she finishes, the smile in his eyes is still there and she’s confused.

“That’s the nicest its not you, its me I’ve received in a long time and I’m a patient man, so no pressure Adan,” he rises and presses a chaste kiss to her cheek before he leaves her on the balcony with the door chiming softly at his departure.

When she retires to bed it’s several hours later and for the first time since the beacon, she doesn’t sleep walk or wake up at her terminal.

When she awakens, she starts her search.

Using her contacts, she attempts to find any information she can about the lost planet that haunts her dreams.

It takes hours of digging to find a buried reference.

Even longer for her contact to report back, putting her on the trail of an asari matriarch, only to learn that that person was no longer on Thessia and had been out of contact for several months.

She spends the rest of the day shopping. 

It had been a nearly humiliating experience.

Having her breast handled to determine their current and future size.

The heat of the asari maiden’s hands along her waist and hips to approximate how much room she’d required as her pregnancy progressed had nearly undone her.

When the young woman laid out a display of panties and bras that looked like something her mother would wear, Adan headed for the door. 

The proprietress had ceded when she realized how many credits she’d lose if Adan walked away finally presenting her with lacy boy shorts and bras that matched.

At least the new uniforms hadn’t been that difficult thanks to Dr. Chakwas forwarding her new measurements with a discreet note that new uniforms would be needed in the following months.

When she returns to her suites, the table is set, food resting on warmers and the sound of water fills the suite. 

Only two people have the pass code to her apartment, DeClan and her father. If it was DeClan, the shower in her own bath would be going…

Strong arms wrap around her neck in a sleeper hold, she drops her weight causing her captor to lean with her or risk breaking her neck.


	39. Secrets revealed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Understanding is found in the strangest places.

He leans, turning her in his arms at the same time and standing up right, “Glad to see you still remember.”

Her father’s warm brogue and deep burr, tumble down the walls she’d erected, loosing the emotions that she’d kept hidden over the last months.

She crumbles to the floor and he follows, taking her in his arms for a short trip to the sofa where her cradles her in his lap.

“Wheest lass,” he soothes, “your drell told me. You should no’ have done that. You should no’ returned to that situation at all.”

She looks up into his face, her eyes a stricken gold as she searches his gaze, “What...what do… You know?”

He smoothes her brow, wiping away the tears that escape her notice, “No Adan, Tannor contacted me. He could no’ keep that secret. He loves ye’ child, he fears for ye as do I.”

She scrambles from his lap, sprawling to the floor to crab walk away from him, “I’ve… Arashu forgive me.”

Her father follows her, snatching her into his arms, “Tis our fault. I and that stubborn lass I took to me bed and mine alone. Donna fash’ so, tis no shame in this.”

The look she gives him is on he hasn’t seen since her childhood and it breaks his heart, “Do ye love him, child?”

Her hair flies across her face as she gives first a nod then torques her head left then right, “Doesn’t matter. As I told him, I’m a safety net for him, nothing more.”

As she speaks, he sees the steel return to his child. He watches her eyes darken to his own malachite and realizes he is facing the woman who’d slaughtered the batarians on Torfan.

“No’ what I ask Adan. Do ye’ love him?” He rests his elbows on his knees, staring down at her.

“I did, I do but I want a life that is mine, Dad,” she brushes her hair from her eyes on a heavy sigh.

“I want to be loved. I want… I want to not have to be an alpha all the damn time,” she finishes.

Her father’s deep laugh surprises her, “The Turian did that for ye, did he?”

She’s forced to laugh with him, “Aye that he did and a bonny fine job he made of it too.”

Strong hands pull her to her feet, “Tis more than I need to know. I’ll no tell your ma, up to the two of ye to sort it out, no? Come let’s get you and the bairn fed.”

They ended up at the popular sushi restaurant, him over a plate of mostly raw fish and her the house Mahi Mahi. 

They stayed long past the clearing of the table, only quitting the restaurant when it’d been made clear that they’d overstayed their welcome.

As if sensing her reluctance to go home, they wandered the Presidium talking of everything and nothing before he broached the subject of Nihlus.

“Care to enlighten me on how you’ve become the infamous Ceile Kryik,” he asks, guiding her to a bench.

“Especially when you’ve been tupping…” he stops there when her eyes blaze into a cold fire.

“Dumb luck,” she whispers into the light breeze.

He takes her hand into his, giving it a light squeeze, remaining quiet while she stares blindly into the sky.

“I used to think intimacy was about sex, I know now it’s not about fucking,” she tucks her hair behind her ears, a smile playing along her lips.

“Intimacy is about that person seeing into you, understanding what you need. Especially when you are strong and in charge, or at least supposed to be,” she gives his hand a light pat.

Her head goes back, eyes closing, “He saw me, Daddy, hell he saw beyond me, to the person I want to be. Not this thing, soldier...the Butcher”

The soft press of lips against her temples flutter her lids open, “It’s something when you can be soft with a man, isn’t it?”

She nods against his lips, “And I couldn’t help but love him for it. I lost Tannor because of what DeClan and I were to one another. Nihlus, he didn’t care, he knew but his honor didn’t demand that I not…he told me once he marked me, I’d be his. My heart would be his and no other's.”

He pulls back at the chuckle that leaves her lips, a hand caresses his cheek, “I’d be damned if he wasn’t right.”

“So back to tha’ old hat trick now, Adan?” It’s a loaded question and she pauses to think on it.

“I ken that bit of business after Torfan was about Hackett, no?” He turns her gaze to meet his, not backing down.

“For Nihlus,” her gaze doesn’t falter, nor does it shift, “I will, Father.”

“Then I hope that damn Drell had them trained ye well,” his voice is laced with steel, “I’m no as subtle about killing those that take what is precious from me.”

Patting his thigh she stands, “If that’s your way of telling me not to die, I’ll try not to let you down.”

He joins her tucking her hand into his elbow, they take the long way home.

During the three nights of his stay, he sleeps with her, tucking her into him and singing her down to sleep as he did when she was a child.

On the fourth morning, he awakens to her omni-tool blinked furiously, on the night stand.

Opening it he finds several messages from his son, the latest is an invitation to breakfast at Apollo’s.

With his temper on a low boil, he accepts in her stead.

DeClan timed everything so he could arrive early, he took a seat at the table that looked over the Presidium.

Like the table he’d chosen his wardrobe with care, dark indigo dungarees, a simple black tee shirt and his favorite worn leather jacket, now draped over the back of the chair to allow the tepid air to blow over his skin.

The seat across from him pulled away from the table and he looked up into his own face.

“Can…” he’s cut off by his father’s finger over his own lips.

Devaun Shepard orders two Connemara neat while adjusting the cuffs of his deep purple shirt.

“I know you weren’t expecting me,” he pauses as the drinks are delivered, allows himself a tiny sip of the pale amber liquid then continues, “yet things have been …”

He rolls his neck, sighing when it finally pops, “It must be nice to work with your sister again?”

DeClan has heard his father’s voice, he knows it rumbles with a deep brogue that makes him hard to understand but today he speaks in stan-tongue.

Tossing back the expensive liquor, he grimaces.

“It’s too damn late for the father, son talk, isn’t it?” he barks, drawing himself up to his full height.

As his father follows his action, DeClan is made painfully aware as to where he’d gotten his height and that he was not nearly as tall as the man before him.

“Mayhap if we’d had that talk, you’d no’ be tupping yer sister,” Devaun growls through clenched teeth.

His relaxed posture is betrayed by the menace in his eyes, “Aye, boy, I know. I don’t give a shit how your ma raised you but if you hurt her again…”

Devaun is both proud and surprised when he finds himself face to face with his son.

“You don’t get to threaten me. You don’t get to show up after being gone my entire life offering advice or being all paternal and shit,” DeClan counters, the muscle ticking in his jaw betrays his outward calm.

“Ask your _Mother_ why she didn’t allow me in your life,” Devaun rises from the seat.

“Ask her about the blacked out report that gave me custody of Daron and as I was saying before: you’re sitting on a time bomb, boy. Keep hurting her and it’ll be you she's hunting,” he finishes his drink and leaves DeClan with more questions than answers.


End file.
